Beta read by Shigiya, Gamercrusher55 and Fluffy Slayer
.
.
.
-Road to Fullstar-
This was beyond humiliating.
For someone who had once been a feared warrior in service to the Queen, this, being reduced to a prisoner, manhandled by a half-blood and dragged across the forest in chains, was a disgrace Chloe could scarcely endure. Her pride had already taken a brutal blow after her defeat at Archer's hands, and everything that followed with him only deepened the wound. And now this? A demi-human had managed to not only best her but capture her like some common criminal. Ashamed didn't even begin to cover it.
"Well, what's this? Gone all quiet now, have we?" came the jeer, low and smug. "What, run out of insults to hurl my way?"
Chloe didn't answer, knowing full well how to recognize a taunt. Her wrists and ankles were shackled in iron restraints, bound together by thick chains that rattled with every step. They made running impossible, movement clumsy, and quick retaliation a fantasy. The blonde elf came to a stop, her sharp gaze landing on the warrior woman with a glare so venomous it might as well have drawn blood.
"I will slit your throat," she rasped, her voice rough and thin, scraping out of her like sandpaper. The sun was relentless, baking her dry, and her lips felt like they might crack apart. Not a sip of water since they'd started this damned march, and it showed. Every word was a struggle, but she forced them out anyway. "Just you wait."
Worst of all, when demanding water, Leona asked her to beg for it first, and then she might consider it.
"You're welcome to try," Leona replied with a lopsided grin. "The client wanted you brought back alive. Didn't say a damn thing about keeping all your limbs attached. Though nothing a bit of healing magic won't fix, though you might get lucky and get one of those wooden prosthetics."
Chloe's face went pale, her eyes flicking around like a cornered animal. For a split second, it almost looked like she might bolt, chains and all. Leona noticed, of course, and let out a sharp, mocking laugh.
"Relax. Maiming you would just make things inconvenient for me. I'm not about to give you the royal treatment, either. Carrying your spoiled fat ass the whole way? Not a chance. Only my baby gets that kind of pampering."
She patted the massive slab of iron slung over her back, a brutish, misshapen thing that could barely be called a sword. The sight of it made the half-elf irritated due to its familiarity with the weapon once wielded by Vault. It wasn't a weapon so much as a blunt instrument of carnage… something made to crush, not cut.
"You won't take me back to that monster," she growled weakly, hatred burning in her eyes. "I'd rather die first!"
"Then do it." Leona's words came so casually that Chloe blinked in disbelief. There was no mockery in her tone, no provocation, just a flat, almost bored indifference that struck deeper than any insult.
"Here," the demi-human added, reaching behind her and drawing a short dagger, its edge dull but serviceable. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed it to the ground at Chloe's feet with a soft thud in the dirt. "Slit your own throat. Pierce your heart. Disembowel yourself, if you prefer a touch of drama like the morons in Thorn. It's all the same to me. Or better yet—" she tilted her head with an unsettling smile, "—I hear biting off your own tongue does the trick. Never seen it done, though."
The blonde stopped in her tracks, her eyes locking onto the knife.
She stared at it.
And stared.
A hundred thoughts rushed through her mind. The temptation, the desperation. Freedom through death. She bent down slowly, her fingers closing around the hilt. The weight of the dagger felt heavier than it should've because it wasn't just a weapon, it was a choice.
The wolf-eared woman narrowed her eyes, reading every flicker of doubt on Chloe's face before she could mask it.
"You can try to attack me if you want," Leona said coolly, "but I promise you this—if you so much as leave a scratch on me, then you'll be crawling the rest of the way with broken bones. And don't think I'll waste so much as a drop of healing potions on your dumb elf ass."
Whether it was arrogance or confidence, it was hard to decipher. There was a growing desire within her to lunge towards this smug demi-human… Correction, female half-Lycan and make her eat her words. But as she gripped the blade tightly and lifted it into a reverse grip, her resolve began to crumble.
Her arm trembled.
She lowered it with the person before her uttering a single word. "Coward."
The word cut deeper than the dagger ever could.
'I can't go back to that monster,' Chloe thought, panic clawing its way up her throat. 'I can't. I can't. I can't…!'
The memories came flooding in, vivid and merciless. She remembered the chains, the dark, foul-smelling rooms. She had been born into slavery, a child of a slave dark elf mother, and a human father who saw her kind as nothing but property. He had bought her mother, used her, bred her, and sold her kin like livestock. He used her mother till death. Chloe had been next. Just another body in a long line of dark elf offspring, fated to be used and discarded.
That man—her father—hadn't wanted a daughter. He had wanted more merchandise… And then her Queen came and freed her from the dungeon where she was locked underneath Ansur; her father had fled before Olga had managed to grab him.
And she knew, with a clarity that turned her stomach, that once he had her again, he would keep her just long enough to break her entirely. Mind, body, soul, until she was little more than a husk with a heartbeat.
That was no life. That was a fate worse than death.
And yet, she couldn't do it.
She couldn't drive the blade into her heart. Not even the will to slit her own throat nor draw blood.
"You might as well just kill me now," she whispered, voice hollow. "Because if you ever give me even the smallest chance, I'll take it. I'll end you. I swear I will."
Leona's response was a loud, unrestrained guffaw, one that shook her shoulders so hard that her armor barely managed to contain the bounce of her ample chest. "Who would've thought?" she said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "The right hand of the Dark Queen, brought low and begging for death."
Her tone shifted...
"Don't bother. We White Wolves, unlike some of the other mercenaries out there that do it for wealth and whores, honor our contracts to the end. I'll drag you back alive, even if I have to wade through an entire army to do it. I don't care what that man is to you. He paid a pretty coin for your return. And I intend to earn every last piece of it."
"You are disgusting," Chloe spat, her voice hoarse with hatred. "Working for a slaver who destroyed my people, turned us into breeding mares just to pump out more stock for the chains. You're no different from the beasts that roam the wilds—"
Her words never reached the end.
A sharp crack rang out.
Leona's hand came down like a whip, striking Chloe with such force that her body twisted mid-air before crashing hard into the dirt. Pain exploded across her face. A welt immediately began to rise, hot and throbbing, and a trickle of blood slipped past her lips, thick with saliva. She nearly bit through a tooth.
"Shut the hell up," the wolf-woman snarled, her fangs bared. "Who the fuck do you think you of all bitches are to call me a monster?"
Chloe barely had time to groan before fingers tangled in her hair, yanking her upright with a savage jerk. The ground spun. Her knees scraped against gravel and roots. Then Leona forced her to face forward, toward the horizon, to the location of something on their pathway.
"Go on. Look," she growled. "Then call me a monster again. I dare you, you fucking cunt."
Smoke curled into the sky in thick, lazy plumes. A distant village, no, what remained of one, lay in ruins. Blackened wood still smoldering, and charred timbers collapsed upon one another while glowing embers floated through the air like ghostly fireflies. White ash blanketed everything in a soft, dreadful snowfall. And among the wreckage were bodies, burned beyond recognition, twisted in agony. The lucky ones, if such a word could even be used, were merely dead.
Others had been left to fates far worse.
A few Orcs lumbered about, their tusks gleaming with blood. Imps, gnolls, and demons clawed at corpses or tore into the still-living to satiate their hunger. Screams echoed faintly from somewhere in the smoke, high-pitched, raw, dying.
Chloe froze, not out of disgust, for she had seen such carnage plenty of times during the war. But rather shocked at the presence of these demons in groups out of the Dark Lands.
"This," Leona said coldly, "has become a familiar sight these past few weeks. All across the continent of Serenus. Villages torched. Caravans ambushed. People were butchered and dozens of women were taken to be used as their personal toys or cock sleeves. And you know why?" Her voice dropped, hissing the next words near her ear. "Because the monsters your precious queen bred are now running rampant. Unleashed in droves. I've lost count of how many I've had to kill just to get here."
"That's not as true as you think," Chloe rasped, even as a partial truth loomed like a shadow behind her eyes. "My Queen controlled the monsters, and aimed them, but this was always part of their nature. They would have done this regardless of who was in control. This wouldn't have happened if my Queen were still in power!"
"Still in power?" Leona's lip curled. "You don't get it, do you?"
But the half-elf shook her head, fury flaring despite the stinging pain in her cheek.
"No," she hissed. "You think you're righteous? Your people, your lands, they tolerated slavers."
Chloe had been pulled close to Leona's face, where she could see the seething rage within them.
"And that's what I mean, that you don't get it." She said those words through gritted teeth. "What rubbish, the only thing that would have changed was their purpose, your Queen still would have aimed them at any village that would have been in range for her to propagate her armies. Anything to get her so-called justified revenge on this world."
Chloe tried to pull herself away and say something, but Leona shut her up with a glare.
"You speak of morality, but your army of orcs raped and killed for years! They slaughtered men, devoured children, and locked women in breeding pits by the thousands just to birth more abominations to throw into battle. And you want to talk to me about monsters?"
Her voice broke, but the venom remained.
"At least slavers are honest about their greed. They're in it for the coin, plain and simple. But you? Your war machine ran on blood. Innocent lives were just fuel for your queen's madness. I've seen my comrades, good men, brave men, cut down like dogs. They didn't sign up for gold or glory. They fought because they believed in something. Farmers protecting their families, kids dreaming of a future. And where are they now? Scattered across battlefields, torn to pieces by your queen's monsters. They believed in something greater, and all they got was a grave."
Listening to that, Chloe didn't speak right away. She just stared, the fire from the ruined village reflected in her eyes. A wind passed through, carrying the stink of blood, smoke, and scorched flesh.
"Don't you dare say that…" The snarl ripped from her throat as she lunged forward, the broken chain in her hands clattering noisily. Her earlier despair burned away, replaced by furious determination. She swung the chain clumsily at the woman before her, hatred flashing across her face. But the shackles bound her movements, dragging her down, slowing her strikes to little more than desperate flailing.
Leona moved effortlessly. In a single fluid motion, she swept her leg around, striking her wrist and sending the chain spinning harmlessly to the ground. Before Chloe could react, her opponent seized her by the hair and slammed her face-first into the dirt.
The taste of earth filled Chloe's mouth. She coughed, struggling wildly, twisting her neck to glare up at her captor.
"All of this—" Chloe spat, her voice raw with fury, "—all of this happened because you turned a blind eye while my people were hunted down like animals! You chose the humans. The demi-humans. You ignored us! When we were dragged from our homes, when we were sold like cattle to those filthy pigs, you looked away! Where were your noble heroes then?"
Her chest heaved with ragged breaths. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
"My Queen rose up because no one else would come! Thousands died, and it's your fault!"
"..."
Nothing was said after that by her captor. The latter's amber eyes narrowed sharply, and for a moment, Chloe thought she might strike her again. Instead, Leona scoffed, the sound low and derisive. She stepped back and turned away, not even sparing Chloe a final glance.
"You've got a big mouth for someone about to be sold into chains," she said coldly. "A bitch paying for the sins of her people."
Her boots crunched against the dirt as she walked ahead, leaving Chloe to scramble awkwardly to her feet, every joint aching from the brutal takedown.
"Just yesterday, you looked ready to throw yourself off a cliff," Leona continued, voice light, almost amused. "I doubt anyone's going to bother looking for you now."
She wanted to shout that she was wrong. That her Queen would come. That Olga would never abandon her, just as she hadn't abandoned her all those years ago when she had been a scared little girl clinging to a blade too big for her hands.
But the words caught in her throat.
Because deep inside, a poisonous thought whispered: Maybe she shouldn't come.
Maybe her Queen should save herself the risk. Maybe she, the failure that she was, wasn't worth it. And worse, every time she tried to picture Olga, that man's face, his face, kept forcing its way into her mind instead. She hated it. Hated that she couldn't push it aside.
"You're better off hoping someone else comes to fetch you," Leona sneered. "Word is, the human who captured you in the first place is working for Celestine now. If he's still lurking around Feoh and is ordered to come after you, maybe I'll even get the chance to crush him too."
For the first time since her capture, a small, sharp smirk tugged at the corners of Chloe's lips. She let out a soft, mocking scoff.
"Do not even dream about it," she said, voice low with grim amusement.
Leona stopped mid-step, glancing back over her shoulder.
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
Chloe raised her head defiantly, the smirk never quite leaving her face.
"You won't be able to defeat him. That man... he isn't human."
Leona arched an eyebrow, unbothered. "Oh? A demi-human, then? Or maybe an actual male dark elf?" She shook her head dismissively. "Strange. I thought dark elves couldn't produce male children. But whatever he is, if he shows up, I'll crush him with my sword. If I'm feeling merciful, maybe I'll even let him live. Simple as that."
Her arrogance burned in Chloe's ears, but she said nothing more. It wasn't worth it. Let her believe whatever foolishness she wanted.
Because deep down, she knew.
A single sword wouldn't be enough when a thousand barely stopped him back when the Kuroinu attacked the castle.
Not against him.
But then again, she doubted he would bother. Why would he? Her capture had probably been the best thing to happen to him. One less nuisance. One less burden to weigh him down.
The thought stung worse than any chain.
With a blank, resigned expression, the girl lowered her head and trudged silently after her captor, the fight momentarily drained from her limbs.
.
.
.
(Around the same time)
"They must have been here."
The whisper broke the silence of the forest, low and certain.
Far removed from the others, a lone figure stood in the middle of a broad clearing. A thick robe cloaked her slender frame, hiding every feature beneath layers of dark, travel-stained fabric. The hood cast deep shadows over her face, save for the unmistakable glow of yellow eyes peering at the horizon, trying to search for something in the soil, footprints or even any kind of clue her closest subordinates could have left behind.
But seeing nothing, much less footprints, when the ground was filled with grass and shrubbery, the woman resorted to using her magic.
A faint red glow pulsed above her gloved hand, the spell circle hovering with a lazy spin. It wasn't exactly her area of expertise, tracking through dirt and leaves, sniffing out clues like some common scout. She was a queen. Her domain was marble halls and throne rooms, not this muddy wilderness. But desperate times called for desperate measures, even if it meant fumbling with a locator spell she'd only half-remembered from centuries ago.
But here she was.
Chasing shadows guided by little more than flickering magic and the weak tug of a trinket she'd long since forgotten.
A small jewel was part of her armor.
A simple thing, shaped like an orb, unassuming to most and enchanted, once gifted to Chloe during the war. Back then, it had been little more than a tool, meant to mark her position should anything go wrong. A contingency, nothing more.
But Chloe had worn it. Every day. Never once taking it off. Even now, across miles of wild terrain, the spell still clung faintly to its owner. Olga sighed and pressed her free hand to her aching lower back.
"Just how far did they go?" she muttered. "Did they even stop to rest?"
Her boots sank into the soft forest floor, each step a painful reminder that she was not built for this sort of travel. The soles of her feet throbbed. She had no choice but to remove her high heels for more even footwear. Her calves protested with every incline. Even her breath came quicker than she liked, betraying her growing fatigue.
It reminded her, unpleasantly, of that dreadful journey to Feoh. Back when she'd been dragged by that man, her pride shattered, after Archer had bested her and the Kuroinu. The humiliation was still like ash in her mouth,
Perhaps, if he were here…
"No!"
Slap!
Stunned by what was about to come out of her mouth, Olga struck herself sharply across the cheek. The sharp sting snapped her out of it, clearing the fog of nonsensical thoughts— thoughts of asking him for help.
"I can do this," she hissed through clenched teeth. "It's just the fatigue again. Twisting thoughts into things they shouldn't be. I will not let Celestine's words cloud my judgement."
She stood still for a moment, eyes closed, focusing on her breathing. For as easy as the action of just going back turned out to be, her pride could not accept it. Defeat had become something she had grown familiar with lately, yet the dark elf swore to learn from those moments to become stronger — the very action she was thinking about now went against everything she strived to accomplish.
Was it a weakness to let pride take hold of her very being? No different from a poisoned dagger pressed to the heart of her soul? No, the Dark Elf did not see it that way, for this task remained something very doable for someone like her, not in any way an insurmountable task.
She would not call for him.
Not for this.
Not even now.
What kind of queen… no, what kind of mage who accomplished what many could only dream about, would she be if she couldn't save even one of her own? If she couldn't retrieve a single subordinate, a single loyal friend, without begging help from a man she barely understood?
She had once been feared. Revered. A dark elf of terrifying power and unmatched intellect. A prodigy born once in a century.
She would not be remembered as a helpless woman pleading for salvation. Chloe wasn't just a follower. She was something more, someone Olga had grown to cherish in ways she didn't often admit. And now, that very person had been stolen away.
She had to bring her back.
Not just for Chloe's sake.
For her own.
To prove that she could.
But the road ahead was far from kind. There were moments—more than she dared to count—where it felt like she was making no progress at all. The spell flickered. The footprints blurred beneath shifting winds and wayward leaves. Her quarry felt forever out of reach, like chasing smoke through a storm.
Food was scarce. Her supplies had dwindled since she left rather abruptly… Olga had not planned for this to take so long. She was exhausted. Cold. And deeply, endlessly frustrated.
And then, "Hm?"
Her foot froze mid-step.
Something flickered ahead, just beyond the tree line.
Her musings came to an abrupt halt. The red light hovering over her hand grew stronger, warmer, as the spell pulsed again, faster this time.
Eyes narrowing beneath her hood, Olga took a careful step forward, heart hammering with anticipation.
There was something ahead.
A suffocating, iron-like stench filled the air—blood, decay, and something else that curled the edges of her senses. Olga paused, her brow furrowing as the hairs on her neck rose in silent warning.
"Urgh… disgusting… a rotten corpse?"
The quiet hum of the world around her shifted, her instincts prickling. She stepped back swiftly, slipping behind the trunk of a nearby tree, and muttered a simple incantation under her breath. A sliver of magic swept through the air, cloaking her presence, adding to the effect of the cloak, which made it difficult to notice her, leaving only the barest trace of her being.
The path ahead was overwhelmed by the abundance of shrubbery, grass, and tall trees, making it hard to see that far ahead. Her eyes narrowed as she peered through the branches, watching with cautious interest, which soon turned to shock upon seeing the source of the terrible sensation from before.
'What are they doing here?'
There, a small horde of demons roamed, their grotesque bodies dragging human corpses behind them, feasting on the remains like a light snack. Worst of all were the women who were still alive… or at least physically still breathing. Used as pleasure toys by the Orcs openly, their bodies practically impaled by the creature's shaft, a few being dragged across the ground by the imps who must have had their turn not that long ago.
It became clear to Olga that their mind had long since left this world, leaving behind an empty husk.
"..."
A flash of uncertainty came across her eyes, wondering what kind of emotion she should be feeling at the moment, it certainly was no empathy for their kind. But she managed to guess the outrage this would bring upon others… especially him.
There were not just human women amongst them, but even some demi-humans, their hollow, vacant eyes staring out into nothingness. Just like the rest, their bodies had long since been ravaged, minds shattered, and souls lost in the endless void of this hellish world.
To Olga, a woman who had fought in a war for nearly a century, it was hardly new, just another reality of the cursed world she inhabited. What concerned her, however, was not the sight, but the question that gnawed at her thoughts.
Why were they here?
After her defeat at the hands of the Kuroinu and Archer, she had lost control over these creatures. They should have been relegated to the Dark Lands, hiding in their cursed depths, far from any civilized paths; it was too soon for them to have repopulated fast enough to move beyond it. But now, here they were, roaming the streets with frightening openness. It didn't make sense. Her mind churned—Had Chloe encountered them? Had she already fought her way past them?
She hesitated, biting her lip. No, she thought, shaking her head. "Chloe can handle them.
She's more than capable of taking down a whole group of them, let alone a single one."
Her grip tightened around the staff in her hand. The cool, familiar weight of it grounded her, but her mind split between two paths.
One urged her to remain hidden, to keep quiet and wait for the demons to move on, to slip away unnoticed. The other, an older, darker part of her whispered of reclaiming control. She could still feel the remnants of the power that had once coursed through her when she had sat upon the throne, the sensation of thousands of creatures bowing to her will. She missed it. She missed the intoxicating rush of command, of knowing that every twisted thing in the world would obey her. She couldn't deny that part of her, that desire to return to her throne and once more bend reality to her will.
"▂▂▃▃?"
But as if in answer to her thoughts, one of the imps stopped. Its head turned slowly, its grotesque beady eyes narrowing as they met hers. Time seemed to stretch in that moment, the oppressive air thickening as Olga's pulse quickened. Goosebumps spread across her skin, and she stiffened, her grip on the staff tightening until her knuckles turned white. She couldn't tell why, but a wave of fear, unfamiliar and bitter, crawled up her spine.
The demon was nothing more than a creature of flesh and magic. She had controlled them before and had seen their vile ways up close. Yet now, standing in the presence of one, she was gripped by something deeper, something she hadn't felt in years.
Fear.
A fear that had no place within her, especially not in the face of a mere demon.
'Why am I scared?' she thought, frustration mounting, clenching her jaw.
This wasn't like her. It was humiliating, this desire to shrink back, to hide. Yet, in the face of the creature's eerie gaze, she couldn't quell the growing unease. Her heart beat faster, and for the briefest moment, she felt like the fragile, powerless woman she used to be, before the throne, before the power. Before everything.
But no, she was stronger than this. She would not be reduced to fear.
With a sharp exhale, Olga forced herself to focus, pulling her thoughts together. She wasn't the same woman she had been back then. Not anymore. The demons could wait. She would find a way to reclaim control—she had to.
The sensation of the staff in her grasp brought Olga a fleeting sense of relief, a reminder that she was not as powerless as she had once been. The events of her recent defeat at the hands of the Kuroinu and the chilling encounter with a being more powerful than anything she had ever faced had left a scar in her heart. It was a constant reminder of her helplessness, of the times she had been saved by another—always forced to remain behind, praying that he would survive. It had all piled up so quickly that she had nearly forgotten who she truly was.
With a deep, steadying breath, Olga glanced around. Some of the demons had noticed her presence and were beginning to sniff the air, their movements slowing as they closed in on her location.
Gathering her mana, she focused on the tip of her staff. A flicker of amber light appeared, small but growing, feeding on her focus. The flame twisted and thickened, becoming brighter and hotter, enough that even the nearest imp noticed it. The creature's beady eyes widened just before it could make a sound. With a sharp thrust of her hand, Olga released the spell.
In an instant, the imp's form was consumed by the blast, and its existence was reduced to nothing but ash.
"▂▂▃▃▅▅ーーー!!!"
The death of the imp sent shockwaves through the horde. The remaining demons were now spurred into action, dropped the women they were carrying, and rushed towards Olga, their aggression unmistakable. She let out a low scoff.
"Tch. Insolence," she muttered, her voice dripping with disdain, as any other negative emotions slowly but surely diminished and were replaced with confidence.
With more of those emotions, she charged up the same attack again, the fireball growing even more powerful. She hurled it into the midst of the charging demons. Most had no way to defend themselves; the flames consumed them with ease, turning them into nothing but charred remnants. Even those who attempted to dodge the attack were met with fiery wings, burning away before they plummeted to the ground, crying out in pain.
But the Orcs, those wretched, stubborn beasts, proved resilient.
Olga frowned as the fireball barely left a mark on them. The skin of the orcs, thick and almost armor-like, resisted the flames. They roared, furious but undeterred, as they charged forward, unaffected by her attack. She clicked her tongue in frustration.
"I forgot how resilient they were. No wonder Celestine had so much trouble against them…"
It was a strange moment of pride for her, though it wasn't something she'd ever admit out loud. The orcs had once been a minor nuisance, but after she had delved into their true capabilities, her years of meticulous planning had borne fruit. She had created an army of orcs, stronger and more resilient than their ancestors, beasts that were not so easily felled… perfect weapons of war. Even the simplest fireball, once a reliable weapon, was little more than a nuisance to their thick skin.
"Bow down to your queen! Entrapment!" she shouted, her voice ringing out across the battlefield.
With a decisive motion, the butt of her staff struck the ground. A massive magic circle unfurled, its intricate design spreading across the ground beneath the demons. The circle pulsed with dark energy, and in the next moment, ten thick tendrils of magic burst forth, wrapping around the limbs of every demon in the area.
The creatures were momentarily stopped in their tracks. Some stumbled and fell to the ground, trapped by the glowing runes that constricted around them.
She slightly arched her back, a deep breath escaping her lips as she prepared for the next wave of spells. "Hah… I missed this feeling," she whispered to herself with sparks of energy flashing from within her eyes. Her fingers twitched, gathering the energy she needed. "Blazing Torch."
The familiar name of the spell slipped from Olga's lips with ease, as if it were a long-lost melody returning to her. The words carried with them the weight of years—decades, in fact—of study and mastery. Back when she had been nothing more than an apprentice mage, she had learned these incantations and practiced them tirelessly until they became second nature. Even now, after all this time, she could summon them effortlessly, casting them with perfection that few mages could ever hope to achieve.
Rather than the simple fireball she had used earlier, the tendrils she had summoned erupted into flames, engulfing the demons they held in a searing blaze. The creatures cried out in agony, their tortured howls rising into the air. Some struggled, swinging their crude weapons with savage strength against the ground, hoping to free themselves. A few of them succeeded, breaking free from one tendril only to find themselves ensnared by another.
Olga had expected this. She knew that these creatures wouldn't be killed by such a simple spell, not immediately. It wasn't meant to end them, it was only a means for her to regain some semblance of control, to remind herself of what she had once been capable of. The spell was a bridge to her past, a reminder of the power that had once flowed freely through her veins.
"Winds that slumber in the hollow sky; Wind Vortex!"
Her voice was calm as she spoke, and yet the words carried the weight of mastery. To any other mage, the spell she was about to cast would require long, careful chants, a deep understanding of magic's inner workings, and precise control of mana to prevent the spell from backfiring in a catastrophic explosion. But for Olga, it was as simple as breathing with but a few words at most.
A gust of wind began to rise from the earth, growing in strength with every passing second. Olga poured more of her mana into the spell, the wind intensifying and howling as it spiraled into a vortex of destruction. The fire she had summoned earlier was swept into the growing storm, both elements combining into a tornado of flame.
The chaos that unfolded before her was almost beautiful in its brutality. The demons screamed as they were consumed by the inferno, bodies torn apart by wind and fire, corrupting the air with the smell of burning flesh.
"I used to be disappointed that I was not able to further fortify your natural defense. I suppose my past failure can be counted as a blessing now." She muttered while the embers flew in every direction, the sky glowing bright orange as Olga kept her distance, careful to avoid being caught in the storm herself.
The screams eventually died down, and the fiery tornado began to lose its strength. As the wind subsided and the flames faded, Olga took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the exertion.
The imps were no more, their forms reduced to nothing but ash. The humans they had been carrying, those few who had managed to survive for a while, were also gone, their lives snuffed out in the same way. Their survival had never been her concern. The only bodies that remained were those of the orcs, still standing amidst the smoldering ruins, their skin burned away to reveal the muscles beneath. They were charred and withered, but they had not been turned to ash. Their resilience was remarkable.
"I did it," Olga murmured to herself, her voice almost incredulous.
It was a strange sensation, one she hadn't expected. Who would have thought that simply killing a handful of Orcs could give her such a feeling of accomplishment? She wasn't sure whether to despise this discovery or to accept it as a bitter truth. Had she truly grown this weak, this dependent on her old spells? It should have annoyed her. Yet, to her surprise, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to savor the victory. But that moment was short-lived.
Before she could even process what was happening, a shadow darted out from behind her. "Ah!" A massive mace swung through the air, striking her body with such force that she was sent tumbling to the ground, losing her balance and collapsing in a heap.
The world spun around her as she struggled to regain her senses. Her hand clutched the staff instinctively, but it was clear that her opponent had the upper hand.
The pain erupted from her shoulders, feeling as if a very bone had been broken by that attack.
"Aaaagh!" The victorious roar of the monster reached her ears.
A figure leaped over her body, and her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of a green-skinned goblin pouncing on her. Its feral eyes, sharp teeth, and saliva-dripping tongue licking her face caused a wave of disgust and terror to flood her being.
"Get off me!" She shouted, trying to push it away, but her physical strength proved to be rather lacking, even compared to such a small creature.
"No, get off me! Don't… Don't!" She gasped, desperate as her nails dug into its skin.
Even though it had seen her previously turn other demons into charred beings, the goblin showed no fear. Instead, it kept eyeing her breasts, the hand gripping the club immediately grabbing her armor and trying to rip it off.
Her eyes panicked, hands searching all around her, hoping to grab hold of the staff that had fallen from her grasp. All she could find was dirt. Her terror and despair grew as more saliva dripped on her face, its tongue running over the contour of her chest. She immediately sensed its half-hardened shaft pressing against her stomach.
At that moment, she froze, as if reliving the exact moment she had been captured by Vault and his men. Her heart felt as if a heavy tone were pressing against it. The temperature dropped, and any coherent thought disappeared from her mind.
With another pull, her armor was stripped off and thrown to the side, leaving her completely exposed — the cold wind graced her skin. Her eyes widened, seeing the entire scene unfold. Only then did something within her snap. With newfound strength, she tried once again to find something around her, not caring what it was. She grabbed it and smashed it against the side of the goblin's head with all her might.
"Argh!" It cried out.
The creature, though disoriented, was not as wounded as she had hoped, but it stumbled, giving her a moment of reprieve. Fueled by desperation, Olga grabbed the club, her mind completely blank except for the need to survive, and struck the creature's head again.
"Agh!" She yelled.
This time, blood was drawn, and black, pungent liquid splattered onto her hand. Though she felt no disgust, a new surge of anger overwhelmed her. She struck it again, her movements frantic.
Bam!
Bam!
Blood gushed forth as the creature's skull split apart, brain matter scattering in all directions, some even splattering onto her face. Yet, in that moment, Olga felt no disgust. Instead, she continued to smash its head with reckless abandon.
"Ah!"
Bam!
"Ah!"
Bam!
"Ahhh!"
With the final strike, all that remained was nothing but shards of bone, minced meat, and crushed eyeballs, its remains strewn across the ground and her body. She struggled to catch her breath, her chest rising and falling with rapid intensity. Her hands gripped the club tightly as she fought to steady herself, her mind in utter disarray. There was no coherent thought, only the desire for revenge, not just against this wretched creature, but against everything that had brought her to this moment. All her frustration, fear, and fury exploded in that singular, violent release.
But it wasn't enough.
She still felt wretched, hollow. The brutal reality of her situation gnawed at her. A measly goblin had nearly taken her when she had just destroyed an entire group of far more powerful monsters. The stark contrast overwhelmed her, leaving her utterly deflated.
"Haha… hah... Hahaha…" Her laugh was broken, punctuated by shallow gasps as no tears streamed down her face. Instead, there was only an eerie emptiness, a broken woman, nothing more than a shadow of her former self. The vibrant force she once had, the gleam of her pride, was now extinguished.
"I can't do this. I can't…" She whispered to herself, her voice cracking. Every word felt like a crushing weight against her chest. She attempted to stand but faltered, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion. The image of those who believed in her and those who wished for her to return to the kingdom with reinforcements clashed in her mind. She thought of him—the one who had been there, the one whose presence she longed for by her side in this dark moment.
Her fingers closed around her discarded armor and the staff that had once provided her with a sense of security. But now, it was nothing but a useless object in her hands. She tried to push herself forward, to return to the kingdom, but stopped halfway.
"What am I doing...?" A weak sigh left her lips as she pictured the reactions she might face. More mockery from the other Princess Knights, perhaps some anger for her escape, some would even wish that she had perished on this cursed journey. But those thoughts didn't stir her heart. She didn't care what any human or Princess Knight thought about her.
But then, a question lingered, one that would not let her rest; 'What kind of face would he make if he saw me return like this, defeated?'
To her frustration, the person she imagined was none other than the infuriating white-haired man, accompanied by that Tiefling child and the lovesick former Knight by his side. She imagined his face, his usual posture—arms crossed or leaning lazily against the wall with that infuriatingly laid-back attitude. At that moment, she imagined the expression that would likely appear on his face at her pathetic performance: disappointment.
Her heart clenched as the thought washed over her, and she found herself standing still, unsure of where to go next.
Olga... hated that. She couldn't fathom why the thought of him making such a face struck her so deeply. She did not want to see that expression on his face, that look of disappointment. For reasons she could not comprehend, the idea of another human's impression of her mattered so much at that moment. He was the one who had destroyed everything she had built, yet now, the worst thing she could imagine was seeing him disappointed because she had failed.
Or perhaps it was because, if she were to return now, she would no longer be able to pretend. She would no longer be able to hide behind the illusion of strength.
"Damn it… disgraceful, incomprehensible. Why… why must you exist in my life? Why can't I just hate you…" For the first time, her eyes moistened, tears threatening to break free. The rawness of her emotions hit her all at once, and in the grip of that overwhelming feeling, something shifted.
Instead of returning to the kingdom, instead of retreating to what she once thought was the only option, she spun on her heels, determination hardening within her. She grabbed her discarded armor and cloak, pulling them on swiftly. The staff now no longer gave her that sense of security from before.
With newfound resolve, she began walking, her steps quickening, moving in the direction she believed Chloe had gone.
"I swear upon my name as Olga Discordia," she muttered through clenched teeth, her voice laced with cold fury, "When I return with Chloe, I will make you kneel and acknowledge me as your queen…"
{Break}
-Forest-
It had been some time since he had ventured beyond the kingdom's walls. Ever since capturing Olga and Chloe, he had spent a great deal of time residing in Feoh, to the point where he had almost, against his better judgment, grown comfortable in the modest little dwelling Prim had granted him.
But now, riding out into the open plains once more, he found himself facing a sight that was both familiar and foreign. The sweeping grasslands stretched endlessly before him, and far in the distance, a dense forest loomed, a sea of green rising up against the horizon. He recognized it. The same forest where he, alongside Alicia, Claudia, and Prim, had first crossed paths months ago.
Yet from what Maia had mentioned, the place they had visited back then had only been the outskirts. The true depths of that forest were much thicker, darker, and treacherous, a place where even horses struggled to push through the tangled undergrowth.
Part of him was curious—almost excited—to see what lay hidden in those deeper woods. What other creatures and plants might exist here, still undiscovered, tucked away in the far corners of this strange world? It was tempting to think about.
But he wasn't here to indulge curiosity.
Their mission was clear: Find Chloe. Find her before something happens. And ensure Olga's safety before anything irreversible occurs.
With that thought anchoring him, he shifted his attention to the only person who could lead them. Without a guide, they would be wandering blind and time was not a luxury they could afford to waste.
"Anything to share with us so far?" he asked, voice sharp, looking toward the rider beside him.
Maia rode slightly ahead to his left, steady on her own mount. Meanwhile, behind him, he felt Radomira pressed closely against his back, her arms loosely wrapped around his waist, her face leaning against his shoulder. Honestly, she'd stayed surprisingly quiet, maybe the girl had fallen asleep. She simply decided to cling to him closely for some unknown reason, probably using him as comfort or to stay safe on the journey.
"She is moving further northwest," Celestine said calmly.
The Goddess Reborn, riding on his right, cast him a sidelong glance. Her expression was unreadable, the wind tugging gently at the glowing blonde strands of her hair, swaying in the wind. There was a strange tenseness to her gaze, one that left him on edge.
"She's masking her presence," Celestine continued. "Likely to avoid my detection. However, her magic faltered for a brief moment. That could mean she either ran out of mana, which I find unlikely, or she was attacked."
The words sent a jolt through him, snapping his nerves to attention. Perhaps taking the horses had been a mistake. He could run faster than any beast alive—but even that might not be enough if something had already happened to Olga.
Almost as if sensing his growing agitation, Celestine spoke again, her voice cutting through his thoughts.
"Do not worry. She is still alive," she said. "Had Olga died, I would have known immediately. She reactivated the spell after the disruption, which suggests it was just a brief moment of weakness."
Still, it did little to ease the tension coiling in his gut. Olga, for all her magical prowess, was ill-suited to physical threats. She wasn't a warrior nor any kind of survivalist— not after years spent living as royalty. Alone out there in the wild, she'd be as vulnerable as a fawn among wolves.
"How long until we reach her?" he asked, his voice low.
To that, Celestine shook her head slightly, the motion almost apologetic.
"I'm afraid I cannot say," she replied. "Even if we make it to the last place she was seen, my divination magic will only give us a general direction. I cannot track her exact location beyond that."
There was a pause before she added, "It would be much easier to track the dark elf she's pursuing instead. Olga's path may be too concealed to follow precisely."
He said nothing, pressing his lips into a thin line as the wind blew colder across the open fields.
It was a race against time and every second they spent riding blind was another second they might regret.
"Gotta side with Cel on this," Maia finally spoke up, breaking the long stretch of silence that had fallen over their small group. "We already know exactly who we're after. A demi-human wolf woman dragging along a dark elf she captured. Several people outside the kingdom have spotted her, so it's obvious she's not even bothering to hide herself. Olga, on the other hand, is like trying to find a single needle in a whole hayfield. It's smarter to go after that blonde-haired bitch first. Two birds with one stone. And we might find her on the way"
She said it with a bite to her tone, as much as she disliked the idea of putting so much effort into saving people whom she previously saw as her enemies, she had no choice in the matter. From what little trail Olga had left behind, and from what Maia knew about the woman named Leona, it was clear enough — they were both heading toward Fullstar.
Another kingdom, then. Unlike the others he had ventured into, this one wasn't under the thumb of the Seven Princess Knights. It stood apart.
"Is there something I should know about that place?" he asked, voice low, eyes narrowing at the thought of yet another obstacle he knew far too little about.
Maia hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head as she mulled over the question as if trying to piece together an answer that would actually be useful rather than just words.
"Well," she said at last, "it's an elven kingdom, primarily light elves, and high elves if you count the royalty. At first glance, it might sound similar to our own, but it's not. Humans barely hold any sway there. Politics, military, wealth, everything's controlled by the Crown. And the one sitting on it is, as you might have guessed, an elven brat despite being older than dirt."
She let the words roll off her tongue with such undisguised disdain that he couldn't help but smirk.
"Evelyn Moynard is the little shit's name," Maia added, spitting the name out as if she had bitten into a sour fruit.
"You sound like you've met her before," he observed dryly, noting the rare, visible displeasure flickering across the redhead's face.
Maia snorted. "Yeah. A long time ago. Vault and I were sent there to try and negotiate an alliance. Supposed to get them to send some troops to help reinforce our front lines against Olga's forces. Let's just say…" She shrugged, "It didn't go exactly as planned. We went there, we asked nicely, and we came back empty-handed."
He said nothing, allowing her to continue, sensing there was more venom yet to come.
"I swear," Maia muttered, her hands tightening slightly on the reins, "that girl is the pure embodiment of arrogance. Worse than Luu-Luu. Imagine taking Alicia's spoiled princess attitude, fusing it with that bratty blacksmith's, and multiplying every bad trait by a thousand."
He couldn't help but choke out a loud chuckle. That was...an odd comparison, especially coming from someone who rarely let grudges fester for this long.
"My, my. A bit exaggerated, aren't we, Maia?" Celestine chuckled, her voice was as composed and graceful as always. The Goddess Reborn rode just ahead, her horse's hooves thudding softly against the dirt road. Her expression, however, held a trace of amusement.
"The Kingdom of Fullstar is powerful," Celestine continued this time, "with a history far older than our own. Many elves, both light and dark, consider it the birthplace of their kind and were actually born there; it is their home. It has endured wars and disasters for centuries, even keeping Olga's forces from ever laying a hand on their lands. They had various methods at their disposal through the passage of time. They are proud...and careful. Rightly so."
He mulled that over, frowning slightly.
"The ruler sounds like she'll be difficult to deal with," he said finally. "Thankfully, our goal isn't to get into Fullstar or meet their queen. With a little luck, we'll avoid both."
"Yeah. Best you not meet her," Maia said firmly, shooting him a meaningful look. "Especially since you're human. You wouldn't be taken seriously. You'd probably end up buried in so much red tape and arrogance that you'd wish you could punt her."
"So basically," he said dryly, "what I had to go through with your lot in the first place."
"Hey!" Maia pouted, visibly affronted.
It sparked a crooked grin from him, a familiar memory rising to the surface.
"I specifically remember how you threw me into a dungeon and challenged me to a duel the first time we met," he said, letting the words hang in the air with deliberate slowness. "Oh, and can't forget about branding my magecraft as black magic."
The way Maia stiffened almost made him laugh outright. For a moment, the fierce warrior woman genuinely looked flustered, her cheeks tinting ever so slightly as she glanced away with a muttered curse.
"Well, that's your own damn fault," she grumbled, pretending to focus on the road ahead. "Who the hell picks a fight with the knights the minute they enter a kingdom!? Of course, I had to throw you in a cell! Also, as far as I'm concerned, your weird magic is something more dangerous than whatever black magic I've seen so far."
He merely chuckled under his breath, savoring the rare victory.
And so they rode on, on the path toward Fullstar, toward their uncertain quarry, and toward the tangled fates that waited for them just beyond the edge of the horizon.
"I doubt that was the only reason why," he remarked dryly.
"Anyways! That's in the past and we shouldn't think about it anymore," Maia quickly interjected, flashing a smile that was just a little too forced to be convincing.
"It is my fault as well," Celestine added softly. "Had I done a better job, had I truly understood the meaning of my vision back then, surely many troubles could have been avoided?"
He didn't add anything to that, letting the conversation drift into a thoughtful silence. Before long, he felt delicate arms slip around him, followed by the sensation of something warm and very soft pressing against his back.
"I hope Olga and Chloe are all right," Radomira murmured, her voice tinged with genuine worry.
Not that he could blame her—those two had become a pivotal part of her life. Olga treated her with almost maternal kindness, and even Chloe, despite her usual prickly nature, occasionally spoke to her with an unexpected softness.
"Don't worry. They'll be back before you know it," he said, offering her a reassuring smile. She returned it gratefully, snuggling her face deeper into his shoulder as the others watched the scene with thinly veiled amusement.
"Shirou," Celestine began, her tone somewhere between bemusement and curiosity, "This may seem redundant, but I wish to ask again… is there a reason why Radomira has... grown into a full-grown woman?"
Maia, just as curious, turned to him expectantly.
As soon as the question was voiced, the Tiefling in question squirmed awkwardly, her tail curling around her legs. She remained stubbornly silent.
"I'm not fully sure yet," he admitted. "According to Olga, her body forcefully matured in order to better contain her powers. But even she's not entirely certain. Anyway, the whole thing accelerated when Radomira gave it her all to reabsorb the aphrodisiac in order to save the kingdom."
"They are a very rarely seen mysterious species," Celestine said thoughtfully. "In all my long life, I have only encountered one... and that was but a fleeting moment."
"You saw others like me?" Radomira's curiosity got the better of her at last, and she finally broke her silence.
"Yes," Celestine nodded, her expression growing distant as she chased a memory across the centuries. "It was about a hundred years ago, beyond the borders of Eostia. There was a woman, a Tiefling, who had taken control of a small baron in Fullstar. Her powers were such that everyone within her territory fell helplessly in love with her. So much so that she became its de facto ruler and even married the baron himself."
"I'm not sure what became of her," Celestine admitted, frowning faintly. "Nor even where she came from."
"She made people love her? She did that willingly?" Radmira asked, eyes wide with wonder. "She wasn't forced to do so? Losing control?"
Celestine tilted her head, a gloved finger tapping her chin thoughtfully.
"Her powers were not nearly as potent and exposing as yours, from what I recall," she mused aloud. "Perhaps it was because she was older, with better control. From what I understood, the baron, who had once been a hunter of her kind, fell madly, irreversibly in love with her. They even had children together and if I remember correctly, had a loving family."
A brief, melancholic pause.
"But by now," Celestine continued, voice growing solemn, "that baron and his bloodline have long since been wiped out by the royal family after the truth behind their union was discovered."
"I can make people love me... if I control my powers..." Radomira whispered, her voice clinging to a fragile thread of hope.
Archer heard it… heard it and frowned, uncertain whether that hope was something to encourage or fear. Using one's power to sway others' hearts was a slippery slope, one that rarely led to anything good. The last thing he wanted was for the girl to rely so heavily on her abilities that she would feel compelled to manipulate others in large numbers just to be accepted.
"You're under no obligation to make others love you," he said softly, his words firm yet kind. "There are plenty of people out there who'll like you for who you are, even without your powers. And when they do, their feelings will be real... and that'll mean so much more."
He meant it, too. Olga, Chloe, Brynn, Grace, and the others each of them proves that Radomira didn't need to twist the world to her liking to find a place within it.
He felt her shift behind him, her chin coming to rest lightly against his shoulder. Strands of her hair brushed his skin, and her breath was warm against his ear.
"Does that mean you love me?" she asked, her voice a low, sudden murmur, sending a shiver down his spine.
He stiffened. The way she said it, a bit too close, almost intimately, caught him off guard.
"For one thing, I want to make it clear, I don't hate you," he answered carefully, trying to tread the thin line without feeding false hopes. "You don't see me trying to kill you or burn you at the stake, do you?"
Probably not the answer she wanted, but it was the one he hoped would avoid any dangerous misunderstandings.
"It's a silly question to ask when you already know the answer, don't expect a different answer from me," he added, forcing a hint of dry humor in his voice.
Behind him, Radomira chuckled softly, using his shoulders as a makeshift pillow.
"I guess that's true. So... Archer does love me, and he'll never abandon me, right? Right?"
"You two are very close," Maia's voice cut in, her tone filled with something dangerously close to jealousy. Both the redheaded mercenary and the blonde Goddess Reborn shot him with squinted, suspicious looks that made him distinctly uncomfortable.
"I almost feel jealous of you two," Maia teased, flashing a crooked grin. "But you don't have to worry about Archer hating you, Radomira. Just think of him like a dad who's too shy to admit the truth to his daughter."
"Shut up." Radomira muttered darkly. "He's more than that…"
"Eh?"
Maia blinked, caught entirely off guard by her sudden rebuke. Archer could almost feel Radomira glaring daggers at the poor woman from behind him.
Not wanting to risk the scene escalating any further, he decided on a swift change of topic.
"Let's make haste. We might still catch up to Olga before sunset," he announced, snapping the reins with a sharp flick.
The horse surged forward, the cart jolting with the sudden acceleration. Behind him, Radomira let out a delighted yell.
"This is much more fun than flying!"
"Glad that you're enjoying it," Maia said cheerfully. "I should tell Brynn to teach you horseback riding. Better yet, I can do it as well."
"I prefer Archer to teach me."
"Why!?"
With the other two trailing close behind, the trio pressed onward through the dense forest, following the meandering path as Celestine had instructed. The elf continued to concentrate, trying and largely failing, to pinpoint Olga's exact location. With little else to go on, they simply kept moving in the direction where Celestine had last sensed her presence.
"Along this road, I believe we'll find two villages ahead," Maia called out from behind, raising her voice so it carried through the trees. "I don't really remember their names, but one's a typical farming village, and the other's a small trading hub where a few guilds have set up branch offices. I used to visit there from time to time to gather information on enemies and rival mercenary groups."
Archer gave a small nod at the useful tidbit, though his gaze remained fixed ahead. His eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for any sign, any disturbance that might suggest Olga had passed this way. For someone traveling on foot, she'd managed to cover an impressive amount of ground, especially in those heels of hers.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, and doubt began to coil like smoke in Archer's mind. Had Celestine truly been telling the truth? Not a single clue had surfaced, not even a broken branch or distant cry to follow. His fingers clenched tightly on the reins, his jaw grinding with mounting frustration until, at last, something stirred at the edge of his vision.n.
"Hold!" he barked, snapping the reins taut. His horse reared slightly with a protesting whinny before skidding to a halt. The rest of the group pulled up close behind, tense and alert.
Radomira peered over his shoulder, her brows furrowed in confusion until her gaze followed his, and her eyes widened.
"A fire?" she breathed.
Far on the horizon, a dark plume of smoke rose into the afternoon sky, thick and black—not the gentle wisps of a campfire, but instead the ominous column of a forest fire.
"Let's go," Archer said grimly.
They spurred their mounts into a gallop. As they closed the distance, the scent reached them, burnt pine and scorched underbrush, thick in the throat. But beneath it, sickening and unmistakable, clung the reek of seared flesh: rich, metallic, and foul enough to churn Archer's stomach.
When they finally drew near enough to see the source, the sight made even the hardiest among them falter.
"Oh dear," Celestine gasped, her voice faint.
The forest clearing was a scene of devastation. Corpses lay strewn across the scorched earth, dozens of them, maybe half a hundred, many immediately recognizable as demons: orcs, imps, goblins, and other foul creatures reduced to blackened husks.
"She was here," Archer muttered, his voice like iron dragged over stone.
At the heart of the carnage, a symbol had been seared into the scorched earth—a spiraling pattern, etched in flame, radiating outward like a terrible signature. Rage, desperation, or both had birthed this firestorm. It was unmistakably her magic.
Then something else caught his eye, a shape just beyond the pattern, slumped near a burned-out tree. This corpse was different. Not charred like the others, but brutally broken, its skull having been crushed into a grotesque ruin, with fragments of bone and brain matter splattered across the ground.
Dismounting from his horse, Archer moved closer to inspect it. His gaze caught on something glinting in the soot, a small shard of blue metal, almost scale-like in texture.
Kneeling, he sifted through the debris, gloved fingers brushing against it.
It was a piece of armor resembling a blue scale. Olga's armor.
"This must have been when she was caught off guard," Archer muttered, frowning as he examined the crushed body, "And lost her concentration on the spell that kept her hidden."
He straightened, scanning the ruined clearing. There were no signs of prolonged combat, no craters from detonations, no deep gouges in the earth from clashing blades, no scattered blood trails weaving through the trees. The swirling pattern scorched into the ground, and how closely the corpses were clustered, suggested a single, devastating eruption of power.
And yet the goblin-like creature whose head had been smashed into a grotesque mess puzzled him. Olga wasn't someone who favored brute force. Her style was measured—precise. To have done this, with such violence and repetition... it either meant desperation, or someone else had intervened.
He tucked the armor piece carefully away.
"We're getting close," he said, , low and steady, already turning his gaze to the path stretching beyond the clearing.
A beat passed before Maia broke the silence. "Wait, why the hell are there demons so close to the kingdom?" Her voice held a sharp edge, concern quickly overtaking any thoughts of the missing dark elf. "How the hell did they slip past the border wards? Past the scouts? We should've gotten word hours ago?"
"Feels familiar, doesn't it?" he added, glancing sidelongly at Radomira.
The redhead blinked, confused, until realization lit her face like a flare. "Wait, are you suggesting... It's like when those orcs attacked the village where I first saw you?"
He nodded, though his expression gave little away. "I'm not saying anything definitive," Archer replied, voice guarded. "But it's hard not to notice the pattern. Same sudden incursion. Same silence from the outer posts. Same chaos. And once might be a coincidence. Twice? That's something else. Where's the nearest village?"
Taking the hint, Radomira's eyes widened. "It's not far from here. We should arrive by sunset!"
Archer nodded grimly, surveying the scorched earth around them. Judging by the smoldering corpses and dying embers, Olga couldn't have left this place more than a few hours ago. If she were injured or weakened, she would likely head for the nearest settlement, if it hadn't already been raided and destroyed by demons.
"Let's go!"
Without wasting another second, Archer swung into the saddle, and the three of them thundered down the forest trail. They pushed their mounts hard, driving them at a relentless pace until the poor beasts were nearly stumbling from exhaustion. At last, as the sun bled across the horizon in streaks of crimson and gold, the treeline thinned and rooftops emerged in the distance. A flicker of chimney smoke curled into the evening sky, calm and undisturbed.
"There!" Maia cried, pointing eagerly.
Archer's sharp gaze swept across the village as they approached. "Looks like the demons didn't attack this one," he noted aloud, though something about the scene troubled him.
There were too many guards stationed outside, far more than a village of this size would normally post. Sensing what kind of trouble might be brewing, Archer quickly projected several heavy cloaks into existence. "Cover up," he said, tossing one each to the Tiefling and Celestine.
"Shirou?" Celestine questioned, catching hers.
"You're no longer in Feoh," Archer said quietly, voice low enough only his companions could hear. "Radomira's face might stir up... unwanted reactions here due to her horns and wings. But if people recognize you, Celestine, they'll cause a commotion. If Olga's hiding inside, she'll immediately know and might bolt away."
"Hey, I want one too!" Maia demanded with a pout.
Archer sighed slightly and conjured another, throwing it at her. He tugged his own cloak over his shoulders just as they neared the village gate.
Something was off; he could feel it in the air.
"Hold!" one of the guards barked sharply, raising a hand to stop them in their tracks. "Who goes there?!"
Before Archer could open his mouth, the Mercenary Queen strode forward, cloak billowing dramatically behind her. "Boy, can't you tell? We're here to earn a few coins on some guild quest!" she barked, swaggering like a seasoned mercenary.
Her accent roughened, her body language growing more careless as if she hadn't a care in the world. Archer watched with faint amusement, she was a far better actress than he'd given her credit for.
"The hell happened here?" Maia continued, tossing her hair back with a scoff. "Last time I checked, this place wasn't crawling with guards. Thieves on the loose or something?"
The guard didn't even flinch at her language; he must have been used to dealing with rougher crowds. "It's not like that," he grunted. "We've been ordered to check everyone who comes in and to make sure no one leaves."
"What kinda stupid rule is that?!" The woman snapped, stomping a boot in mock outrage. "How the hell are we supposed to complete our fucking missions if we can't leave? Don't mess with the Red Rose group, y'hear?! We ain't afraid to punch a man square in the face if we have to!"
Behind Archer, he could feel Radomira trembling with suppressed laughter. Even Celestine's shoulders shook slightly beneath her cloak.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down, lady!" the guard said hastily, raising both hands as if warding off a blow. "It's only temporary, alright? Just a couple of days, tops. After that, you'll be free to come and go as you like."
"Still a pain in the ass, but why go through all the trouble?"
He hesitated at first, looking at the other guards behind him who simply shrugged. "Hah…, well, I can't confirm it, but apparently there are rumors that a dark elf is hiding somewhere around here. The mayor got an offer from a big shot to find her, and in exchange, he's set to be heavily rewarded. This includes the group that will catch her in the first place as well." That immediately caught everyone's attention. Archer's heart skipped a beat as the pieces fell into place. He was certain now; Olga must be here.
"A dark elf? Shit, if we get to her first, then we'll get a hefty reward!" While obviously a ruse, Archer could detect a hint of greed and malice just beneath the surface of her words..
"Good luck with that," the guard muttered, rolling his eyes with a touch of disdain. "You're the fourth group here, and not one has found even a trace of her. Most of us suspect she has already escaped, and the mayor's just being stubborn. But if you truly think you'll succeed, go ahead. You're wasting your time, not mine."
With a dismissive wave, the guard motioned them forward. Maia, unfazed, handed over a few extra copper coins, ensuring they could pass without unnecessary delays. Still, the guards' eyes lingered on Archer, probably due to his darker skin tone. Their expressions were guarded, until Maia casually revealed that he was human.
A simple look at his face and his ears proved her point.
Upon entering the settlement, the sheer size of the settlement caught Archer off guard. This was no mere village, it sprawled outward with a presence that rivaled a city's edge. It was at least three times the size of any town he'd passed through before. It had the atmosphere of something more substantial, a small town in its own right. Brick buildings rose in tight rows, some layered with balconies and wrought-iron railings, their façades painted in warm earth tones. At the heart of it all, a towering church pierced the skyline, its spire casting a long shadow over the rooftops below. In the center square, a grand fountain sent water tumbling in graceful, rhythmic arcs, the spray catching sunlight like scattered jewels. All around it, hundreds of people moved along the stone-paved streets, voices mingling in a low hum beneath the steady clip-clop of passing hooves and creaking wagon wheels.
"Wow, guess the place really has changed since last time. It wasn't nearly this big," Maia muttered, her voice a mixture of awe and surprise. "No wonder they're having such a hard time finding her."
Archer, though, remained focused. His keen ears sharpened, filtering out the chatter around him. He could make out several snippets of conversation from the locals as they walked past, oblivious to his presence.
"Did you hear? The Green Pasture village nearby, apparently, got attacked and destroyed by a bunch of demons!"
"Goddess protect us, when did those things get this close to us? I thought the Dark Queen was defeated by the Princess Knights and the Kuroinu, wasn't that supposed to put an end to it all?"
"I told you all, these were lies! Propaganda spread by the Church of Celestine! They most likely failed their mission, and all of them died while facing the queen. Now she's retaliating with vengeance, and she won't stop until we're all dead!"
"Shut your mouth, before one of those priests from the Church hears you. They'll punish you severely," another voice hissed.
"So, is our village next?" a woman asked in a voice full of fear.
"I don't think so. My son works as a hunter, and he mentioned that he spotted a group of demons taking a separate road, one far away from our village. We might be safe for now."
"But it could also be a different group of demons that attacked the first village. We could be facing an entire army. Who knows when more will come? We may very well be the next in line! I don't know about you, but I'm leaving this place and heading for Geofu. All this nonsense, along with this lie about the dark elf hiding among us, is driving me mad!"
"Good luck getting out of here. Unless you're willing to dye your hair black, darken your skin, put on pointy ears, and hand yourself over to the authorities, we're likely stuck here for the next few days. How the hell can they not find a single elf? It's been two days already!"
Wait… two days?
"That… can't be right." Archer said while he gathered more information from his surroundings, "It hasn't been that long since Olga left Feoh, at best a day has passed, there's no way this search could have been started for her before she even passed through."
"Maybe they had someone who could see into the future like with Celestine," Radomira asked innocently.
Celestine shook her head, "Even if that was the case, I can assure you that there are none at my level of sight. Maybe my sisters can achieve such power, but even that is uncertain." Celestine dashed Radomira's theory before it could gain weight.
"Then what the heck is with this search party?" Maia asked, puzzled, before realization came over her. "Unless… It's Chloe!"
"…" Archer grimaced, "We can't be sure of who it is unless we find the answers ourselves. It could be Chloe… could just as easily be Olga. And if it is her, she'd never let herself be taken without a fight.."
"Why?" The Tiefling behind him asked.
"Because she would have done so during Vault's raid, but that could also be attributed to her own arrogance." There were several factors, and all he could do now was just make playing guesses without any concrete answers. Dark elves were not that rare in all of Eostia, but for the mission, this piece of information could not be ignored.
There was a silence going through them. Before Celestine decided to open up the air. "We shouldn't be so quick to judge. There's still a chance Olga came through here to find Chloe. We should take stock of our surroundings and confirm the facts before we move on. This can also give us time to rest."
"Yes, but we can't afford to waste time, every moment we're here, and Olga isn't, is another moment that something can happen to both Olga and Chloe," Archer added.
"All in time, we can just wait for another vision from Celestine-sama." Maia mentioned with a shrug, "As much as I hate to admit it, that queen bitch isn't the type to just let herself be caught off guard again."
Celestine agreed with her with a nod.
"Hah… in any case, let's look for an inn. I'll go to the guilds and see if I can't drum up information on this dark elf they're chasing," she offered up her suggestion.
Her plan sounded reasonable, with nothing much to say in return, they all followed her to a small Inn. One was owned by an old man who recognized Maia and handed over the keys after she threw him a few copper coins. As Maia left the establishment, he gave his key to Radomira with plans to scout the place out first, Celestine stopped him by grabbing the hem of his shroud.
"Shirou," she called him by that name again. At this point, he just gave up trying to change it. "Later tonight… Can I have a moment with you in private?"
It almost sounded simple, innocent, even like inviting someone for a talk. Though that example could not be applied to this woman, the entire journey, he was sure she was planning something.
Archer paused in deep thought, considering all the pros and cons. "Alright."
In the end, he agreed. Regardless of all her faults and delusions on certain topics, he was willing to hear her out.
----------------
The next 5 chapters of Snafu, and my other Fate fics (Fate Coiling Sword with 3 chapters, A Fake Familiar Reborn with 3 chapters, Steel Eyed Faker soon to be 3 chapters, Hound having 3 and To love a sword having 4 chapters) are already available on my P@treon. With 4 more Broly chapters at /NimtheWriter. Also, I post commissioned arts on each story, already posted a few on an Archer's Promise, Broly and Snafu.