Inside the house in Black Flag Territory, the Ghost-faced Owl stood idly on the table, casting its sharp gaze around the room.

  It truly couldn't understand what these two females were staring at. Their bodies were saturated with their master's scent, which meant the master had clearly done something to them.

  But it wasn't a female, and it couldn't grasp what was so special about that kind of thing. Besides, they didn't have brilliant feathers, sharp and upright beaks, or even the quick reflexes its kind prided themselves on.

  It wasn't that it liked standing on the table—it was simply because every time it moved, Liliana would raise her hand and smack it without hesitation. Her aim was quite accurate, as if she'd been trained.

  She had her chin resting on the edge of the table, staring at it without blinking. The owl had no choice but to stay put, too scared to make a move.

  Sylvia sat beside her, eyes glazed and rimmed with red. She barely spoke, just gazed silently out the window, as if a heavy stone were pressing down on her chest.

  She had thought that she and Draven would make it through this together. At the very least, she believed she could get through every night in the warmth of his arms. But now that he was gone, her world was teetering once again.

  He had left—and gone into danger. She feared he wouldn't return. If that happened, this fragile happiness she had only just begun to nurture would be ripped out by the roots. Her tears fell silently, one drop at a time.

  Liliana kept glancing at Sylvia as she reached out to wipe her tears away. She did it with practiced ease, as if she had done it a thousand times before. When she finished, she wiped her tear-dampened hand dry on the soft feathers of the Ghost-faced Owl.

  The owl shot her a glare, flapped its wings, wanting to leave but not daring to. It had figured it out—these women were all strange, especially after they had the master's scent. They became even harder to understand.

  At that moment, Viola passed by the house again with Martha in tow. They'd been helping sort supplies and arrange equipment all day.

  According to Draven's plan before he left, they were all supposed to move to the forests outside the village by now—a much safer position. He was worried that in his absence, someone might take advantage of the situation.

  But neither Sylvia nor Viola followed his orders. Neither of them was willing to leave.

  In truth, Viola had already made up her mind. If something happened to Draven—if he really died—she wouldn't live either.

  Once the elves arrived and took Sylvia back, she would follow Draven into death. She wasn't afraid of dying. She was afraid of living in a world without him.

  So she kept herself busy, constantly working, trying not to think—because the moment she did, the pain in her chest became unbearable.

  Martha silently followed behind her, occasionally helping out, but most of the time just going through the motions. She didn't love Draven like Sylvia did, nor was she as fiercely loyal as Viola.

  She was the last to join them, and her feelings for Draven hadn't yet sunk so deep that she couldn't pull herself out. Even so, she hoped he would return safely. Not out of affection, but because she genuinely respected and relied on him.

  At that very moment, Draven was not only alive and well—he was preparing to give everyone a surprise. He was about to play the most critical role in a performance that would catch the enemy completely off guard.

  Night fell.

  Selene City should have been coming alive by now. Normally, this was the time when the beastkin returned from their hunts. But today was different.

  All four city gates were tightly shut, with no sign of opening. Warriors from the four major tribes stood guard like immovable walls, blocking every returning beastkin from entering.

  "What's going on? Why won't you let us in?"

  "We're city residents—we have the right to go home!"

  "Open the gate! My child is still inside!"

  Voices of anger, anxiety, and panic echoed through the air. But no matter how loudly they shouted, the soldiers guarding the gates said nothing. Not a single word. They only used stern glances to warn everyone not to come closer.

  At the back of the crowd, Rurik sat atop his Nightmare Horse, holding the reins of a scaled steed. Beside him stood Angelica and Katia.

  They weren't shouting like the others, but their expressions were equally tense. Rurik kept glancing toward the city gate, unease written all over his face.

  Meanwhile, atop the city wall, Torvald paced back and forth anxiously.

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  He wanted to get out and warn someone, but the succubus soldiers had their eyes fixed on him. He knew that a sudden citywide lockdown could only mean one thing—something big was about to happen. And the first person that came to his mind was Freya.

  He knew he shouldn't have fallen for her—but he couldn't help it. Her body, her scent, everything about her was engraved in his mind. He was terrified something would happen to her. Even more terrified that he'd never see her again.

  But for now, he was powerless. All he could do was stew in helpless worry.

  The city appeared calm on the surface, but beneath it, tension crackled like a drawn bowstring. The succubi elites had already mobilized, sealing every passage. No one could get in or out easily.

  Residents huddled in their homes, not even daring to open their windows. They peered through cracks in their doors, secretly watching the patrolling succubi with nervous hearts.

  In the west, in the succubus district—specifically, the southern succubi's territory—a siege was already underway.

  Freya had sensed something was wrong for a while now. As she comforted her people, she made her way toward the city center. She had to find him. Only by his side would she be truly safe.

  But just as she turned a corner, someone blocked her path. She stopped, her face darkening, a flicker of anger flashing in her eyes.

  "Selene, what is the meaning of this?" she said loudly, making sure the other southern succubi nearby could hear."Are you turning your hand against your own people? Are you planning to betray your kin?"

  However, no one stepped forward to respond to her. Even the personal maid who had always stood behind her quietly took a step back.

  Freya suddenly turned her head sharply, staring intently at the person she had once trusted most. Her eyes were filled with anger, confusion, and an indescribable sadness.

  "What do you mean by this?" Her voice rose sharply, almost like a reprimand.

  But the maid kept her head down, silent, not daring to meet her gaze.

  The response came instead from another voice, slowly emerging from the crowd:"She doesn't dare to speak, so I will."

  Someone stepped out from behind Selene, gently lifting their hood to reveal a familiar face. It was Valeria.

  "Is it you?" Freya gritted her teeth, her voice changing in tone.

  She glared at Valeria as if she wanted to tear her apart alive. She remembered Valeria as someone timid and submissive under her command just a few months ago, and now she stood on Selene's side.

  Valeria's gaze was calm; she said nothing and simply looked at Freya as if staring at a lost cause.

  A surge of anger rose in Freya's heart. She swung her palm, releasing a powerful gust like a whirlwind aimed straight at Valeria's head— just as she had easily struck down those subordinate who dared defy her before.

  But this time, before her palm could even get close, the force was swallowed by some invisible power and vanished without a trace.

  Selene had only taken a single step forward, without saying a word, and turned Freya's attack into thin air.

  In that moment, Freya felt like she had hit a wall of steel. Her brow furrowed as she realized she had miscalculated.

  Valeria stood behind Selene, a faint, almost imperceptible smile appearing on her face. She took two steps back and whispered,"Thank you."

  Her eyes were full of admiration.

  She had never imagined that one day she would stand beside such a powerful person, opposing the one she once could never resist.

  Valeria knew very well that without Selene's support, her rebellion would have been crushed long ago. Now, at last, she felt she was not being discarded carelessly, but was a succubus with a stance and a future.

  If Draven knew that she was now wholeheartedly devoted to Selene, he would probably explode on the spot— after all, this whole plan had been his design.

  But now Valeria was fully committed to Selene's camp, without a hint of hesitation.

  It was still not dark yet, and everything in Selene City appeared normal. But beneath the surface, the undercurrents had long been surging.

  Draven and the others were certainly not just waiting for nightfall. Every second, they were arranging, coordinating, and assigning personnel. Selene's dark guards moved like silent ghosts, swiftly and quietly carrying out every command.

  Valeria was not idle either. Under the escort of the dark guards, she met in one go with the most influential senior figures among the southern succubi— elders, warriors, and old nobles second only to Freya.

  Using Sabina and a fellow clanswoman who had been killed by Freya as a breakthrough, she accused Freya of disguising betrayal as rescue and betraying the entire clan.

  Some asked if she had evidence.

  She smiled and replied,"I don't need evidence."

  At that moment, she was nothing like the timid minor character she once was.

  In the eyes of many southern succubi, these people were defectors seeking refuge with northern Selene. The dark guards behind them represented Selene's power. Valeria was not speaking alone; she represented the new order.

  Selene called Freya a traitor— then she was a traitor.

  More importantly, Valeria promised that Selene would confront Freya face to face tonight, forcing her to explain in front of everyone whether or not she had betrayed them.

  She asked everyone not to intervene or act— just stand aside and watch how things unfold. She made it clear:"If you make a move, be prepared to be dealt with."

  Freya still had a few loyal followers, but they had been controlled by the dark guards early on during the siege.

  When Freya stood before Selene, she already understood she had lost.

  The eyes of the succubi around her changed— no longer respect, no longer fear, but cold indifference.

  An indifference as if looking at an outsider.

  Freya felt that chill crawling up from her feet, but she was not afraid. On the contrary, she smiled.

  She coldly stared at Selene and whispered,"Lady Clara must have sensed it. When I struck earlier, the power was enough for her to detect."

  She bit her lip, her eyes turning wild:"When she comes, I'll join forces with her— I refuse to believe we can't take you down."

  Selene seemed to have guessed her thoughts long ago and gave a graceful smile."You're waiting for her? Let me tell you, she's not coming."

  Freya's expression changed."You're talking nonsense."

  "I'm not," Selene's smile remained, but her voice turned colder."But it's not me who's going after her."

  She raised her right hand, a black whip appeared in her palm, coiling like a snake and emitting a faint hissing sound.

  Freya's body shuddered as if she saw the Grim Reaper waving at her.

  "You can't touch me! Lady Clara won't forgive you! Even if she's gone, the Blood Elves won't spare you!"

  Her voice trembled.

  And at that moment, she finally lost control.

  Unintentionally, her tone and words revealed her biggest secret— her private collusion with Clara.

  The succubi inside the stone house had been silently observing everything. Now, hearing those words, they could no longer remain seated.

  One by one, doors opened, and pairs of cold eyes fixed on her. They said nothing, only slowly closed in, surrounding Freya in the center.

  "What do you want to do? Are you all mad? Don't forget who saved you from the dungeon!"

  Freya's voice grew weaker and weaker as she saw in every familiar face the burning anger and flames of betrayal.