The Vengeful One sat slouched on her throne in the grand chamber of Ravenmoore, her head resting heavily on her fist. Her crimson eyes, usually sharp and filled with purpose, were now dulled with frustration as she stared blankly at the reports spread out before her. The steady hum of activity outside the room seemed a world away, and her brows furrowed deeper with each passing moment.
The city was… still. It existed. Despite her arrival and the dramatic displays of power, Ravenmoore operated as if she were just another page in its long history. The people bustled about their daily lives with a rhythm that seemed unshakable, and her Marines' presence, while respected, didn't stir the city from its resolute indifference.
She let out a long sigh, her fingers drumming against the armrest of her throne. "This is insufferable."
Great Sage's voice chimed in, calm and measured as always. "My Lady, your dissatisfaction is understandable. However, the city's current state of stability should be considered a success. Its function and efficiency remain intact, despite the transition of power."
"Stability is boring, Sage," she whined, lifting her head just enough to glare into the empty space. "I didn't come here to watch the city hum along like some well-oiled machine. Where's the challenge? The spark? Something to remind them who I am?"
"Would you prefer chaos, my Lady?" Great Sage replied, its tone bordering on amused.
"Maybe," she huffed, flopping back against the throne as if mimicking a child's tantrum. "This place is supposed to be mine. Yet, I might as well be a shadow on the wall for all they care. Even the Marines are just… blending in."
She crossed her arms, her crimson eyes narrowing as she stared at the high ceilings of the chamber. Then, like a bolt of lightning, an idea struck her. She sat up straighter, her smirk returning. "Sage, what if I forced a little action? This city was clearly built with military power in mind—look at the walls, the structure, the sheer efficiency of it all. What would happen if I enacted military reforms or stirred up a little... activity?"
There was a brief pause, as if Sage were processing the idea. "Analyzing historical data… Militaristic societies such as Sparta, Rome, and Feudal Japan thrived on military service being an integral part of daily life. Ravenmoore's societal structure mirrors this. A law exists—or rather, existed—mandating that all citizens aged thirteen to twenty-nine serve a minimum of eight years in the military. This ensures a highly disciplined and trained population."
Her smirk faltered, her fingers tapping against her thigh. "So, what you're saying is, if I enact something military-focused, it won't matter? No one will care?"
"Correct, my Lady. The citizens of Ravenmoore are already deeply ingrained in a military-based way of life. Radical changes to their martial traditions would neither inspire great favor nor provoke significant resistance. Their culture is one of acceptance and pride in service. Any new policies would likely be viewed as an extension of their existing way of life."
She groaned loudly, her head falling back against the throne. "That's just great. The one thing I thought might work is already baked into their entire identity. What am I supposed to do with that?"
Her hands moved to ruffle her hair in frustration, the usually composed and terrifying queen now looking like someone on the verge of pulling her hair out. "Sage, I swear, this city is going to be the death of me. Celestafell needed me. Silvercrag needed me. But Ravenmoore? It's like they don't even care I'm here."
"My Lady, your presence is acknowledged and respected," Sage replied patiently. "However, you are correct that Ravenmoore operates with a certain autonomy. Its foundations as a military city are deeply rooted, and as such, its people may not feel the immediate impact of your rule as those in less structured cities might."
"So you're saying I'm not special here," she muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"I would never imply that, my Lady. Your role remains paramount, and your leadership is unparalleled. However, Ravenmoore may require a different approach to assert your influence. Their respect for strength and discipline is unshakable. Perhaps there are avenues outside of governance to demonstrate your power."
Her fingers paused mid-ruffle, her brows furrowing as she considered the suggestion. "Outside of governance… Like what? Winning a duel? Overthrowing their favorite statue? You're not giving me much here, Sage."
"Perhaps hosting a grand military demonstration or leading a campaign beyond the city walls," Sage suggested. "Both would highlight your strategic brilliance and further cement your presence as an active leader rather than a passive ruler. Additionally, engaging directly with the people on their terms could foster a deeper connection."
She sighed again, though this time it was tinged with reluctant acceptance. "A campaign could work… if there were anything worth campaigning against nearby. As for a demonstration, that's just showing off. Not that I mind showing off."
Her smirk returned, though her frustration hadn't entirely faded. "Fine. I'll consider it. But I'm not spending another day sitting here and watching this city exist. If Ravenmoore wants strength and action, then that's exactly what I'll give them."
"A wise course, my Lady," Sage replied, its tone calm. "Ravenmoore is a city that thrives on movement. A stagnant leader may not inspire the loyalty you seek, but a dynamic one will leave an indelible mark."
She swung her legs off the side of the throne, standing in a single fluid motion. "Well then, Sage, let's give them something to remember. They wanted a queen, didn't they? Let's see how they handle the real me."
The square of Ravenmoore was alive with anticipation as the call went out for all citizens and Marines to gather. The crowd assembled quickly, murmurs rippling through the sea of faces as they waited to hear why their queen had summoned them. The banners of the Vengeful One hung high over the square, the silver sigil glinting under the midday sun. At the center, atop a raised platform, she stood, her dark cloak billowing softly in the breeze, her presence as commanding as the fortress-like city around her.
Her crimson eyes swept over the crowd, taking in the faces of her citizens and the disciplined ranks of her Marines. To her left stood Grand Commandant Lian, her posture straight and ready. To her right was Commander Thedrin, the seasoned leader of Ravenmoore's 53rd Battle Group, his weathered face betraying no emotion but his respect for the woman he now called queen.
The murmurs ceased as she raised her hand, her piercing gaze silencing the crowd entirely. The air grew thick with tension, every pair of eyes fixed on her as she began to speak.
"People of Ravenmoore," her voice rang out, clear and strong, "and my loyal Marines. For generations, this city has stood as an impenetrable fortress, a symbol of strength and resilience. Your walls have held firm, your forces have fought valiantly, and your history is steeped in triumph."
Her tone shifted, carrying a sharp edge as she stepped forward, her cloak trailing behind her. "But even the mightiest of cities must prove their strength anew. Complacency is a slow poison, and I will not let it seep into the bones of Ravenmoore. It is time to remind the world—and yourselves—why this city is called indomitable."
The crowd leaned in, their curiosity palpable as whispers began to stir once more. She allowed them a moment before continuing, her voice rising with intensity.
"Beyond the northern gate lies the Ebonspike Range, a treacherous mountain chain that has been both a shield and a challenge for Ravenmoore. Within those peaks dwells a creature—a beast that has eluded subjugation time and time again. It has swallowed armies, crushed hopes, and remained a blight on the name of this city. But no longer."
Her words hung in the air for a moment, the tension thick enough to cut. Then, with a sharp motion, she raised her hand and pointed to the horizon.
"The Umbra Wyrm, a dragon-basilisk hybrid, waits for us in its lair within the Ebonspike Range. It has defied conquerors, laughed at warriors, and ruled those peaks as an unchecked tyrant. That ends now. I will lead the 1st Dark Marine Battalion and the 53rd Battle Group into the mountains. Together, we will slay the beast and claim its lair for Ravenmoore. We will show the world that no challenge is too great for us."
A stunned silence followed her proclamation, the enormity of the task sinking in. Then, from the ranks of her Marines, a voice called out: "For the Queen! For Ravenmoore!"
The cry was like a spark to dry tinder. Cheers erupted from the Marines, their disciplined roars echoing through the square. The citizens, though more hesitant, began to cheer as well, the energy building into a thunderous wave of support.
She raised her hand again, silencing the crowd with practiced ease. "This is not a decision made lightly. The Umbra Wyrm is a formidable foe, and the dangers of the Ebonspike Range are well known. But I trust in my forces. I trust in this city's legacy. And I trust in the will of every soul gathered here today. Together, we will succeed where others have failed. Together, we will make history."
Her gaze swept over the crowd once more, her crimson eyes blazing with determination. "Prepare yourselves. We march at dawn. Ravenmoore's might will be etched into the annals of history, and its banners will fly where none have dared before. For the Queen. For Ravenmoore. For victory!"
The roar of the crowd was deafening now, the combined voices of the Marines and the citizens shaking the very ground beneath them. As the cheers rose, she turned slightly, her smirk faint but visible as she caught Lian's awestruck expression.
"Grand Commandant," she said quietly, her voice carrying only to Lian, "I hope you're ready for what's coming. We're about to make legends."
Lian straightened, saluting sharply. "Always ready, my Lady. They'll write songs about this."
"Songs, speeches, and more," the Vengeful One replied, her smirk widening. "And all of them will remember who made it possible. Now then..." The Vengeful One stood tall atop the raised platform, her crimson eyes gleaming with an almost feral intensity. The excitement in the air was palpable, the cheers and roars of the crowd reverberating through the square. But she wasn't finished yet.
Her arms shot out to either side, her dark cloak billowing dramatically as she threw her head back and let out a sharp, commanding cry that cut through the noise like a blade.
"WHAT IS YOUR DUTY?"
Her voice, amplified by her unspoken magic, boomed across the square, shaking the very stones beneath her feet. For a heartbeat, the square fell silent as every Marine in attendance straightened, their fists slamming against their chests in unison. Then, their voices rose, a thunderous roar that drowned out everything else.
"TO SERVE THE QUEEN'S WILL!"
The energy surged through the square like a shockwave. The citizens, who had been hesitant moments before, found themselves swept up in the sheer force of her presence. The younger among them raised their fists, shouting along with the Marines.
She wasn't done. Her voice carried again, louder, sharper, filled with an unrelenting fire. "WHAT IS THE QUEEN'S WILL?"
The Marines roared back, their voices raw with devotion. "THAT WE FIGHT AND DIE!"
The crowd's cheering grew louder, their hesitation melting away as they became swept up in the rhythm. The Vengeful One's grin widened into a truly demonic expression, her fangs glinting in the sunlight. Her heart pounded, not with fear or hesitation, but with pure, unbridled excitement.
"WHAT IS DEATH?" she bellowed, her arms rising again, her dark aura flickering like a shadowy flame around her.
The Marines' response was deafening, their voices shaking the air. "IT IS OUR DUTY!"
The chant echoed across the square, reverberating off the towering walls of Ravenmoore, filling every corner of the fortress-city. The citizens, now fully caught up in the fervor of their queen's energy, joined in, their cheers merging with the roars of the Marines until the entire city seemed to come alive with the sound.
The Vengeful One let the moment ride, her chest rising and falling with exhilaration as the sheer force of loyalty and excitement filled the air around her. She could see it in their eyes now—the Marines, the citizens, even the veterans of Ravenmoore's 53rd Battle Group—all of them were alive with the spark she'd ignited.
"You feel that, don't you?" she shouted, her voice carrying across the square, her grin as sharp as the edge of a blade. "That fire in your veins? That thrill in your chest? That is what it means to be one of mine! That is what it means to fight under my banner!"
The crowd erupted again, the excitement reaching a fever pitch. Even those who had doubted her felt the infectious energy coursing through the square. She stood there for a moment longer, basking in the power of it, before raising her arms one last time to silence them.
"At dawn, we march. And when we return, it will be with the head of the Umbra Wyrm as our trophy. This city will roar with triumph, and its walls will echo with the names of those who made it possible. Remember this moment, Ravenmoore. Remember this fire. For tomorrow, we make legends."
The roar that followed was unlike anything she had ever heard. The Marines shouted her will again, their voices joined by the citizens, their unified cry shaking the square to its core.
"TO SERVE THE QUEEN'S WILL! THAT WE FIGHT AND DIE! IT IS OUR DUTY!"
As the sound reverberated into the evening, The Vengeful One stood at the center of it all, her demonic grin unwavering. Her eyes flicked briefly to Lian, who was standing at attention nearby, her expression a mix of awe and pride.
"Lian," she said, her voice low enough that only her Grand Commandant could hear. "If this is the reaction to a hunt, imagine what they'll do when I bring them their prize."
Lian straightened further, saluting sharply. "They'll follow you anywhere, my Lady. Of that, I have no doubt."
The Vengeful One chuckled darkly, the excitement of the moment still coursing through her. She lingered on the platform, her crimson eyes still aglow with the energy from the roaring crowd. The chants and cheers began to subside as the citizens and Marines dispersed, the weight of her proclamation settling into the air like a thick fog. She tilted her head slightly, closing her eyes and letting out a slow breath, but even that did little to quell the fiery anticipation now coursing through her veins.
"My Lady," chimed the calm, steady voice of Great Sage in her mind, breaking the silence within. "I must inform you of an important development regarding your current state. The surge of energy you are experiencing is not merely excitement or adrenaline. It is the activation of a unique passive skill: Hunt's Euphoria."
Her lips curled into a smirk, though her eyes remained shut, savoring the rush of the moment. "Hunt's Euphoria, you say? Do tell, Sage. You always have such a delightful way with explanations."
"Of course, my Lady. Hunt's Euphoria is an innate skill exclusive to the Dark Messiah. It activates when a target of significant strength or notoriety is identified for conquest or destruction. The skill floods your body with heightened senses, battle cravings, and an unwavering desire to fulfill the hunt. This state persists until the action tied to the skill is completed, or the target is otherwise removed."
Her eyes flickered open, her grin widening. She flexed her fingers, feeling the subtle hum of power beneath her skin. "Ah, so that explains this fire in my blood. I should have known it was you, Sage, keeping me in such a deliciously restless state."
"I must caution you, my Lady. This state, while advantageous in bolstering your combat readiness and focus, can lead to impatience or recklessness if not properly managed. Your mental clarity remains intact, but the pull toward the hunt may grow stronger with time."
Her smirk turned sharper, her tone carrying a playful edge. "Impatience? Recklessness? You think so little of me, Sage. I am a master of control. This... fire, this craving? It's a gift, not a burden. I'll let it simmer, let it build until dawn. And then..." She let out a low chuckle, her voice dropping to a near purr. "Then I shall let it boil over, erupting upon that Umbra Wyrm with all the fury it deserves."
"Your confidence is noted, my Lady," Sage replied evenly, though there was an almost imperceptible hint of amusement in its tone. "However, I advise caution. The Umbra Wyrm is not a creature to be underestimated. Its previous survival against numerous conquests indicates significant cunning and power."
"Good," she replied without hesitation, her eyes narrowing as the anticipation swirled within her. "The stronger it is, the sweeter the hunt. Let it have its cunning, its power. It won't save it. Not from me."
Sage fell silent for a moment, as if considering her words. "Very well, my Lady. I shall continue to monitor your condition. Should you require guidance, you need only ask."
"Sage, you've done more than enough already," she murmured, her tone softer but no less intense. "And you were right about this city. They needed a spark, and this hunt is exactly that. It's not just my blood that's boiling—it's theirs, too. Tomorrow, Ravenmoore will know what it means to have a queen who leads from the front."
Her gaze drifted toward the horizon, where the jagged peaks of the Ebonspike Range loomed in the fading light. The thought of the Umbra Wyrm sent another thrill through her, the fire in her veins refusing to be quenched. For now, she embraced it, letting the excitement churn within her like a storm waiting to break.
"Let them rest, Sage. Let them prepare. But me? I'll savor this anticipation. Tis fine. I shall let the moment boil and erupt tomorrow. And when it does, the Ebonspike Range will tremble."
With that, she turned on her heel, her dark cloak sweeping dramatically behind her as she descended from the platform. The fire in her veins didn't waver, and she welcomed it with open arms. The hunt had begun, and nothing—not even the might of the Umbra Wyrm—could escape her.