Inside the Gaspare mansion, chaos had already taken hold. Servants ran in every direction, their steps unsteady as fear hollowed their strength. Legs quivered beneath them, hands shook uncontrollably, and bodies trembled as screams echoed through the halls. Some collapsed where they stood, having witnessed their companions fall one by one, cut down mercilessly by enemy's blades. Blood stained the floors, and terror clung thickly to the air.
Rowena had been inside her laboratory when the noise reached her—cries of agony, panicked shouting, the unmistakable clash of steel. Her breath caught. Without hesitation, she pushed away from her table and rushed outside, her heart pounding violently in her chest. The moment she stepped into the corridor, she knew. The Empress's guards had arrived. The mansion was under attack.
"Over here! We have to escape, now!" Roselia shouted, her voice sharp with urgency as she urged the others forward. She pushed open a small, concealed door near the kitchens, revealing a narrow passage that led underground—an emergency route meant for moments such as this. One by one, servants stumbled inside, clinging to hope as they were guided towards safety.
Rowena stayed behind, directing everyone through the passage, her hands gripping shoulders, her voice forcing calm where panic threatened to consume them. Yet her resolve faltered. Her chest tightened, dread flooding her senses.
"Damn it… I need to find Roselia," she muttered, her voice low and strained.
With two guards beside her, Roselia seized a sword, the cold weight settling firmly into her grasp. Her jaw hardened. Without looking back, she turned away from the escape route and charged back into the heart of the mansion, determination burning through her fear. She would save her sister—or die trying.
Elsewhere, Max and Barron fought side by side, their bodies positioned protectively around Rehena, who stood between them. Steel rang against steel as they struggled to hold their ground, surrounded on all sides.
"We can't break through—there are too many of them!" Barron shouted, strain ripping through his voice as his sword barely held the advancing enemy at bay.
"Aaagh!" Max let out a raw cry as he swung his sword, pouring every ounce of strength into the blow as it drove into an advancing guard. Nearby, Rehena's gaze swept across the chaos, her breath coming fast as she searched desperately for a way through—until her eyes caught it, the mansion door standing ajar.
Her mind raced. If Max and Barron could create an opening, she could slip through. She could reach Roselia.
She drew in a steadying breath.
"Sir Barron, Your Highness—clear the path. I will save Lady Roselia," Rehena said, her voice firm despite the fear tightening her throat.
"No! It's too dangerous!" Barron shouted back, clashing swords with another attacker. "The Crown Prince will have my head if anything happens to you!"
"She will die if we don't act!" Rehena insisted, desperation sharpening her tone. Wounded bodies lay scattered around them, and beyond the mansion walls, the village had already been reduced to silence. The enemy numbers only continued to swell.
Barron grit his teeth, eyes flashing with resolve. "Your Highness, go with her," he commanded Max sharply. "I'll hold them back."
Max froze, shock rippling across his face. His grip tightened around his sword as hesitation clawed at him. Leaving Barron alone against such overwhelming odds felt like a death sentence.
"Go!" Barron roared, his final command cutting through the noise like thunder.
That single word snapped Max from his daze. Without another second's delay, he seized Rehena's arm and pulled her towards the entrance. Together, they rushed inside the mansion as Barron stepped forward, placing himself squarely between them and the pursuing guards.
"Get them!" one of the guards yelled, charging forward—only to be stopped short.
Barron struck first.
The blade pierced cleanly, and the enemy choked as blood spilled from his mouth. His body collapsed heavily to the ground, lifeless before it even settled.
Something changed then.
Barron straightened slowly, his presence shifting into something feral, something terrifying. It was as though a dark force had awakened within him. His eyes burned with ruthless intensity, and the surrounding guards faltered, dread creeping into their expressions as recognition dawned.
One by one, Barron cut them down with brutal precision. Steel flashed, bodies fell, and the air filled with screams as fear seized their souls.
"No… it can't be…" one of the Eastern guards whispered, his voice shaking uncontrollably.
"It's him," another muttered, horror etched across his face. "The once-undefeated knight of the Western Empire."
"Don't be afraid! There are many of us—charge!" another shouted, forcing bravado into his voice as they rushed forward.
Barron stood unmoving. Blood streamed down his face, but he merely wiped it away with the back of his hand, a cold smirk curling at his lips. One by one, he dismantled every guard who dared approach, his movements precise, relentless, and merciless.
The battlefield trembled beneath his wrath.
Meanwhile, Barron fought fiercely against the guards outside, holding them at bay as Max and Rehena hurried into the mansion. Inside, chaos reigned. The Eastern guards had already infiltrated the halls. Max's stomach churned as his eyes fell upon the fallen—servants, some still crying, all cut down mercilessly by the enemy. The air reeked of blood and fear.
Max longed to save them all, but there was no time. His mother's life depended on him, and he could not falter.
"Upstairs! We have to move!" Max shouted, leading Rehena toward the second floor. Her breath was ragged, but she followed closely, trusting his pace.
Then a sharp cry cut through the chaos.
"Kyaaa!" Rehena stumbled as a guard's hand shot up from below, clutching her ankle. She pitched backward, nearly losing her footing. Max's head snapped around, eyes wide with alarm. Another guard reached from the bottom of the stairs, gripping her ankle and yanking her violently downward.
"My lady!" Max bellowed, lunging to grab her arm.
"I will kill you!" the guard hissed, brandishing his sword with cruel intent.
Max's reflexes were instantaneous. He swung his blade with precision, plunging it through the guard's chest. Blood sprayed as the man gasped and collapsed. Without hesitation, Max stamped down with his foot, sending the lifeless body tumbling down the stairs.
"Your Highness! Look!" Rehena cried, pointing downward as the Eastern guards surged up the stairs toward them. She rose unsteadily from where she had fallen, brushing herself off, her eyes blazing with renewed determination.
"Go to my mother! I'll hold them off!" Max commanded, his voice fierce and unyielding. Rehena nodded, straightening her posture, forcing calm into her trembling body. She raced upward, her heart hammering violently in her chest, each step a battle against the fear threatening to consume her.
She could feel the weight of urgency pressing down, but there was no time for tears. Roselia needed her. The former Queen—fragile, ill, Max's mother—relied entirely on her.
"Hang in there, my lady, Your Highness," Rehena murmured to herself, her lips barely moving, a silent vow as she surged up the stairs toward the chamber, every muscle straining, every breath stolen by the chaos behind her.
*********
Before the chaos had erupted, Max's mother, Roselia, had already secured a piece of scroll from her table. She pressed it carefully into a hidden compartment within her cabinet—so cleverly concealed that no one could ever suspect its existence. At last, she lay back on her bed, allowing herself a fleeting moment of respite, a brief, trembling attempt to breathe.
Then—
BOOM!
The explosion shook the village, a sound so dreadful it made her heart leap violently in her chest. She sprang from her bed, rushing to the window, eyes wide with terror. Smoke billowed over the rooftops, villagers screaming and fleeing in every direction. And then she saw it—a tide of Eastern guards advancing relentlessly, sent by the current queen of the Eastern Empire. Innocents fell beneath their blades, bloodied and wailing. Roselia pressed her hand against the glass, her fingers trembling, before quickly turning away, her mind racing with fear and urgency.
"No… this is exactly what I feared," Roselia whispered, her lips trembling.
"They're here to kill my people… and me. They've already begun," she murmured again, urgency snapping her into action. Her white night gown fluttered as she darted to her cabinet, prying it open and retrieving the scroll. Pressing it against her chest, she ensured its secrecy. Then she headed for the door, intent on fleeing.
But as she opened it, her breath caught. Standing there, blocking her escape, was Anabelle—the maid she had trusted for years. In her hand glinted a syringe filled with a green liquid, unmistakably poison.
Anabelle's black eyes shone with cruel delight. Her hair, jet-black and braided meticulously, framed a face twisted in malice. For Roselia, however, the expression did little to surprise her. Her face betrayed nothing, her emotions locked behind a calm mask.
"Where are you going, my lady?" Anabelle asked, her voice psychotic yet sweet, as she stepped into the chamber and slammed the door shut, locking it. Darkness enveloped the room, the only light spilling through the moon obscured by smoke drifting in from outside.
"So… you've come to kill me," Roselia said, slowly stepping backward, never taking her eyes off Anabelle, her posture rigid and controlled even as her heart pounded in her chest. She continued retreating until she reached her desk, each measured step a careful balance between distance and defiance.
"Yes. As the Crown Prince commands. Ahahaha," Anabelle cackled, believing victory already hers. Roselia's eyes narrowed. She already knew Anabelle's role as Meldric's messenger—the Crown Prince of the Eastern Empire. The maid had been poisoning her body daily under threat: take it, or Max would die. Each drop of poison sapped her strength, yet her will remained unbroken.
"What reward do you hope to gain from killing me?" Roselia asked calmly, masking the trembling of her limbs.
"Meldric will marry, of course! Ahahaha!" Anabelle laughed wickedly. Roselia merely smirked.
"Hand over the formula, and I'll grant you a peaceful death," Anabelle demanded. Her face hardened into something cold and merciless as her gaze bore into Roselia. That formula—created by Roselia herself—was the only defence against the poison devised by the King and Queen of the Eastern Empire.
"So… you already know," Roselia replied quietly, her voice steady despite the danger closing in.
"Yes... Then give it to me, you wretch!" Anabelle snapped, impatience flaring as she stepped closer.
In a sudden motion, Roselia seized the flower vase beside her desk and hurled it. The glass shattered against Anabelle's shoulder, knocking her off balance. She crashed to the floor with a sharp cry.
"KYAAAA!"
The syringe slipped from Anabelle's hand, skidding across the floor. Roselia lunged forward, desperate to reach it—but instead, she spun toward the door, fumbling with the lock, her breath coming fast as panic surged.
She was too slow.
Anabelle rose abruptly, snatching the syringe from the ground.
"ACCCCK!" Roselia screamed as Anabelle grabbed a fistful of her hair, wrenching her backward. With brutal force, she slammed Roselia onto the desk. The impact drove the air from her lungs, leaving her sprawled helplessly beneath her attacker. Anabelle climbed over her, pinning her down. Roselia struggled, but her weakened body betrayed her—the poison she had been forced to consume for so long had drained what little strength she had left.
"WHERE IS THE FORMULA?!" Anabelle screamed, her voice shaking with fury.
"I don't know!" Roselia cried, her voice echoing with defiance.
"If I inject this into you, you'll tell me!" Anabelle threatened, raising the needle toward Roselia's throat.
"I WILL NOT GIVE IT TO YOU!" Roselia shouted, shoving her attacker back. Anabelle dodged, and the two struggled violently over the syringe, each desperate for survival—a deadly dance of life and death.
"AAAACCCK!" Anabelle cried, straining to pierce Roselia with the poison. Roselia fought with every last ounce of strength she could summon, forcing herself to block the needle. Their hands clashed, slipping slowly in a struggle that seemed to stretch endlessly.
SNAP.
The syringe plunged into someone. Both women froze, eyes widening in shock.
"Ahahahahaha!" Anabelle's triumphant laugh tore through the chamber as Roselia's body began to betray her, numbing instantly from the poison.
Thud!
"YOUR HIGHNESS! ROSELIA!" Rehena's voice rang out as she burst through the door. Her eyes widened in horror. Roselia knelt on the floor, weakened and motionless, while Anabelle still clutched the syringe that had delivered its venom into her stomach. Rehena's chest tightened as the sight of the needle and the poison's effect hit her like a blade.