The moon had slipped past its zenith, casting silver shadows over the jungle floor, but Light remained still as stone beneath the veil of night. From the dense brush, his sharp eyes watched the impossible unfold: two legends locked in combat—the Assassin Queen and the one known now as the Rebellion King.
But Light knew the truth.
> "Queen versus Queen..." he murmured silently. "Only one walks away."
He didn't interfere. Not yet. He needed to know who would win. He needed to see the weight of each choice fall into place. The two women danced across the clearing like war spirits, their weapons a blur of steel and will.
The Assassin Queen—Regal. Ruthless. Fatigued but precise.
The Rebellion Queen—Feral. Fluid. Her strikes wild but sharp with intention.
Blood slicked the soil between them. Leaves swirled in their wake.
And then—it happened.
The Rebellion Queen stumbled, feigning fatigue. The Assassin Queen stepped forward to finish it—then froze.
A hidden blade.
Too late.
A dagger slid from the Rebellion Queen's sleeve, slicing into the Assassin Queen's thigh. Off balance, she staggered. The Rebellion Queen surged forward, tackling her with a roar and slamming her into a tree trunk with bone-cracking force. A blade rose—
> "That's enough."
The voice came like a whisper—yet thunder in the Queen's ear.
Light moved.
Like death given breath, he emerged from the foliage behind the Rebellion Queen.
One strike.
A pressure-point jab to the base of the neck. She gasped—body stiffening.
A second strike to the ribs.
And then—silence.
She collapsed, eyes rolling, her mask scraping the dirt.
Light turned to the fallen Assassin Queen. Her chest still rose, but faintly. Her sword lay at her side, fingers loosened in unconsciousness.
At her feet, lying half-buried in ferns, was the second princess, still breathing—unconscious but unharmed.
He nodded to himself.
> "No time."
Within the hour, Light had dragged the Rebellion Queen—bound and gagged—to his hidden cave deep within the ravine behind the eastern cliffs. The entrance was disguised behind vines and stone.
Chains secured her arms and legs. A sigil lock, coded to Light's pattern, sealed the door.
He stood before her, watching as she slowly regained consciousness, those cold blue eyes snapping open with fury.
> "You'll live," Light said flatly. "But not free.
Her voice was low, husky, venomous.
> "You'll regret touching me."
She stirred, wrists still bound in enchanted chains, ankles locked against the cool stone wall. Her breath was shallow but steady. Her eyes—ice-cold, calculating—rose to meet Light's as he stepped closer, a single torch casting his shadow long behind him.
His tone remained even, unreadable.
> "That depends on how valuable you become."
She smirked despite the pain.
> "What do you want? A throne? An army? My secrets?"
"Everyone wants something."
Light's expression didn't change. But his next words did.
> "A deal."
She blinked. The smirk faded.
> "I offer you survival. And a chance to build your power underground. Influence. Control. The underworld. No spotlight. No thrones. But your name will echo where shadows breathe."
The Rebellion Queen tilted her head slightly.
> "You think I want to rule in the dirt?" she muttered. "The underworld doesn't bend to rebellion. It eats you alive."
> "You're strong," Light said calmly. "And you have loyal followers. What you lack is infrastructure. Money. Network. Safe entry points."
She scoffed.
> "So what—You'll build it for me?"
> "No," he said. "I'll give you the fuel. You'll build it yourself."
With a motion, Light raised his hand. A flicker of his interface flashed in the air—unseen by her, but real to him.
He pulled open a chest beside the stone wall and revealed a carefully sealed metal box. He tossed it open.
Gold coins shimmered under the low torchlight.
> "One million in pure coinage. Clean. Untouched. Convertible. Yours."
Her breath caught—not visibly, but in the way her eyes dilated just slightly. She looked from the box to him.
> "You're either mad… or setting me up."
> "Neither," Light replied. "Consider this an investment. I help now. You rise later. And when the time comes—I'll ask for what I need. Only once."
> "That's not a deal. That's a leash."
> "It's freedom with a price," he corrected. "The same kind of freedom you wanted when you picked up a blade."
She fell silent for a moment.
> "And you want… nothing in return right now?"
> "Rest," Light said. "Heal. Survive. That's your part for now."
He stepped toward her. Unlocked the cuffs with a simple gesture.
The metal clicked away. She rubbed her wrists, still eyeing him with suspicion.
> "I don't work for anyone. Especially not someone who only helps when it serves them."
> "I don't work for anyone either," Light replied softly. "Not anymore."
He turned toward the chest of supplies. Pulled out dried rations, bandages, a bottle of medicine.
> "There's food. Salve. Water. A mattress with a canopy net. It's not luxury, but it's safe."
As he placed everything beside her, she remained unmoving—watchful.
> "Who are you really?" she asked finally. "What kind of man gives a rebel his enemy's gold?"
Light paused for the first time. Then, slowly… he reached into his cloak.
And drew out a metal badge.
Elite Unit. Coded. Untouchable.
The fire in her eyes ignited.
> "You…" she whispered.
She shot to her feet—fists tightening. Had her muscles been stronger, she would have leapt at him.
> "You're one of them… one of the emperor's dogs!"
> "I was," Light said. "This badge belonged to a man I killed. I buried him myself. If you doubt me, I can take you to the grave."
> "Then why are you helping me?" she demanded, her voice cracking for the first time.
He looked her dead in the eyes.
> "Because I've read your story. And I think it's worth a second chapter."
She didn't reply.
She sat back down, slowly.
Still watching him. Still deciding.
He didn't push further.
Instead, he walked toward the mouth of the cave.
Before leaving, he looked back once.
> "Some of the supplies in here aren't normal. Don't touch what you don't understand. Especially the box with the red lock."
She nodded once—more to herself than him.
> "You'll regret trusting me."
> "Maybe," Light said. "But if you survive what's coming, I won't."
And then—he was gone.
Vanishing once more into the shadows, leaving only firelight and a rattled rebel queen surrounded by golden silence.
By dawn, Light had returned to the battlefield's edge—no longer a warrior in the fight, but a silent architect of outcomes.
He found the Assassin Queen still weak, leaning against a tree, a makeshift bandage over her wound. The second princess was awake now, silent, sitting beside her.
They both looked up when Light appeared from the shadows.
The Queen narrowed her eyes.
> "You… saved me."
Light nodded.
> "Rebellion King escaped," he lied smoothly. "But I stopped her from killing you both."
She stared at him for a long moment, then nodded once.
> "Then I owe you."
> "No," Light replied. "You owe yourself. And her,"—he pointed to the princess—"owes the Empire a future."
The second princess looked down, saying nothing. But her fists tightened.
Light didn't smile, not this time.
He'd already decided. She was the real piece worth protecting. Everything else was leverage.
The journey back was slow, but under cover of the Assassin Queen's banner, no one dared challenge the second princess.
Bloodied, dirt-smeared, and barely upright, they looked like survivors—legends reborn.
As they reached the outer camp lines, Light stopped.
He turned to them both.
> "You'll go in first. Walk with strength. Don't speak unless spoken to. I'll join from the other side."
The Queen narrowed her eyes again.
> "You trust me?"
> "I trust your pride," Light said simply.
They said nothing as he faded once more into shadow.
By the time Light circled around to the second prince's command tent, the camp had changed.
Trumpets blared.
Drums rolled.
Soldiers stood to attention along a road that stretched to the horizon—lined with flame torches and flowered banners.
The Emperor had arrived.
Light stood beside the second prince now, who was dressed in ceremonial black and gold, posture straight but eyes twitching with nerves.
> "He's here…" the prince whispered. "He brought his entire vanguard."
Indeed—100,000 soldiers marched in formation, flanking a golden palanquin. Giant imperial flags waved in the morning wind.
But Light knew.
> "This is only his traveling escort," he murmured. "The true strength of the Empire... is two million strong."
And yet—the Emperor came personally.
> "Why?" Light whispered to himself.
And then, his eyes narrowed.
> "Because the throne is bleeding."