Episode 11: Her Majesty Returns

  Chapter 035 - Her Majesty's Mercy

  Luminar stepped forward, slow and graceful. Her bare feet never touched the grass. As her white dress shifted to reveal her ankles, each footfall hovered just above the blades. With every step, a ripple shimmered beneath her soles, as though an invisible surface carried her weight. She wasn’t walking. It was almost as if she were gliding, stepping across an unseen realm.

  Around her, the Groggins remained silent, and so did the black-crowned leader. All presence stilled. Luminar was the center, a fixed point the world bent around. She approached Xollor, who remained bowed and motionless.

  Her porcelain hand extended, but it was not her hand that touched him. From beneath her skin, a ghostly duplicate emerged. A translucent, graceful, perfectly shaped hand appeared and reached for Xollor’s face, resting calmly against his cheek.

  “I do not like your disobedience,” Luminar said. Her voice was light, yet it settled with weight. The calmness mirrored Donnor’s voice, but this serenity was sweeter, overwhelmingly so even in its softness.

  “But because my brother has taken a liking to you, I will keep you,” she whispered. “There will be no more chances. Understood?”

  There was no anger in her tone. Not even an ounce of malice, and that was what made it terrifying, even to Xollor. He shuddered, just slightly, saying nothing for a breath too long. Then, head still bowed, voice brittle, he said, “Understood…”

  Luminar withdrew her ghostly hand. It slipped back beneath her skin, vanishing without a ripple.

  “Very good. I love that response,” she said simply. Her tone lifted there, almost innocent, like a woman delighted by a child’s obedience.

  Then she turned. Her gaze dropped to the motionless child curled in the grass.

  It was Vynelor.

  He stirred weakly. A shallow, pained groan escaped him. His eyes fluttered but failed to open. Tears streaked down his smeared cheeks as he winced, the burn still raw against his skin.

  Luminar knelt beside him. As she extended both hands, the spectral limbs emerged again. They moved gently as if shaped for this very purpose, like a maternal love. They lifted him without effort, cradling him like an infant.

  “Child,” she whispered. “You’re in such a terrible state. Come now. Let me take care of you.”

  She rose and turned to face the Groggins and the crowned figure. Her expression remained neutral as she said, “Interfere with human affairs, but only with Xollor. Show him what disobedience brings. Honor your founder, but for this command, honor me.”

  The Groggins glanced at one another, then toward their master. The darkened face shifted, posture altering. It stepped forward and said, “We are shaped to shadow our founder. We cannot interfere with human—”

  LUMINAR

  Telekinetic Magic ? Lv. 47

  Telekinetic Radiation ? Lv. 26

  Crushing Aura ? Lv. 11

  It felt as though the air itself were being torn from their lungs. The power was crushing.

  One Groggin blinked—and suddenly a ghostly strand of Telekinetic Magic coiled around its neck. Gasps rippled outward as more strands lashed through the air, binding each of them in turn. The movement was so swift, so fluid, no one had time to react. Even the crowned master was ensnared, a thick strand cinched tight around its throat.

  The strands pulsed with light, radiating from Luminar’s phantom form. The spectral figure hovered above her, each beat like a heartbeat, light spilling outward in waves. The glow warped the air like heat. Grass sagged, as if melting beneath the Telekinetic Radiation. Xollor felt its unnatural warmth creep across his skin—a sensation he had never imagined could exist.

  Then came the weight.

  The Crushing Aura bowed them all, spines groaning under an invisible burden. Legs trembled. Groggins shuddered. Xollor clenched his fists. Only the crowned figure resisted, though even its frame bent.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Luminar turned, her face eerily taut. Her voice rang clear. “I said interfere. Do as I command. If you disobey me, you disobey your founder. Do not deny it: the prophecy hangs in this moment. Accelerate or delay it. Your choice.”

  Silence followed. The Groggins and Xollor stood rigid, terrified that even brushing against one of those strands would mean destruction.

  Luminar’s gaze lingered on the crowned figure. Then her smile returned. Her phantom self dissolved back into her body, the strands recoiling, and the crushing aura lifting. One by one, they drew ragged breaths. Xollor straightened, though his legs ached with tension. He glanced down at his trembling body and frowned.

  As if nothing had occurred, Luminar lowered her gaze to the burnt child resting in her ghostly arms. Her system ignited, the interface echoing a sacred Adaptation Path:

  Fluttermorph ? Lv. 73

  Her entire form began to glow in bright white, but not blinding. Her body faded into a silhouette, edges flickering like silk. Vynelor’s form shimmered in turn. And together, they merged into a single orb of radiant light.

  The sphere hovered above the ground, pulsing softly. Then three pairs of elegant wings unfurled from its sides—long, translucent wings folding like crystal blades. Two white streamers unfurled beneath, trailing downward like ceremonial cloth. The shape no longer resembled a person.

  It was now an insect.

  And it took flight.

  The glowing creature lifted into the sky, leaving behind a trail of falling snowflakes. Each flake glowed faintly, light and weightless, melting before it could touch the ground. The insect soared westward, toward RrodKa. Behind it, the clearing remained silent.

  Tension clung to roots and stone. The Groggins did not move. The crowned figure turned to them and gave a simple nod with no words needed. And they understood.

  The Groggins began to move. As they approached Xollor, the crowned one turned away. Slowly, it sank into the earth, leaving no trace where it vanished.

  Now it was just Xollor and the Groggins.

  Wallan, still writhing weakly on the ground, lay forgotten. Xollor scanned the treeline with wary, calculating eyes. He stepped backward unsteadily, trying to read the rhythm of the shadows.

  Then one Groggin surged forward.

  He closed the distance in an instant, his hand snapping out to seize Xollor by the top of his breastplate. The force pulled Xollor off balance, dragging him face-to-face with the figure’s pale, expressionless visage. The Groggin’s dull eyes locked onto Xollor’s, possessing emptiness, yet somehow burning with judgment.

  “You disobeyed orders,” the Groggin growled, his voice like gravel grinding underfoot. “You will bow to order.”

  Xollor, caught but composed, clenched his jaw. His posture remained rigid, his breath even, but the tension in his neck betrayed him. His reply came cold and clipped. “Or what? You cannot kill me. You have no one else who can deliver as I can.”

  The Groggin inhaled deeply, eyes sliding shut for a moment, almost like prayer. When he opened them, the corners of his mouth twisted upward into something resembling a grin.

  “We do now.”

  Xollor’s confidence wavered. “What?”

  The Groggin tilted his head, gesturing toward the sky, toward the path where Marshal Thallion had vanished into light with Vynelor.

  “Have you misunderstood?” he said softly. “Everything is proceeding according to our masters’ plans.”

  Xollor’s expression twisted. His lips parted, voice bitter. “So that’s what you meant. The worship. It was that child all along. He will carry out your plans—and hers. She will crown herself, because the boy will be the one she worships.”

  “So you do know,” the Groggin replied, his grip tightening. “He is not yet a vessel. But in five years, he will return to bring order. And when he does, he will surpass what you could ever be.”

  The words struck deep. Xollor’s body tensed, eyes drawn to him from all sides: judgment and control. The more he thought, the hotter his blood burned. And his system burned just the same.

  But the figure did not stop there. His tone dropped, lower and harder. “You are no longer needed, slave—”

  XOLLOR

  Rippling Magic ? Lv. 10

  His eyes ignited with crimson fury. From his feet, veins of light burst outward, covering the vicinity with magic. Once the light faded, the earth beneath him twisted, shuddered, and cracked. Roots tore free. Soil heaved. From below, stone lances erupted—hundreds of them—shaped into blades and barbs. They launched upward with the force of thunder.

  But the Groggins were gone.

  Before a single shard could find flesh, they melted into the treeline, shadows slipping between bark and branch, vanishing into the forest’s depths. One shadow snagged Wallan in passing, dragging him into the mist.

  Xollor stood alone again. But with him, dozens of eyes burned in the shadows, looking at him. Like a sound of critters, the forest brewed with a sinister presence, surrounding one man.

  And he knew now: the battle had begun.

  End of Episode 11