“We exist solely for the Great Empress. If this is your will, then we shall simply obey.”
Saruel appeared somewhat dazed, yet he managed to compose himself and nod.
Indeed, from the outset, they had no alternative but to comply with Elena’s commands.
Although Elena was not explicitly issuing threats at this moment, their bodies bore a brand of dark magic, etched upon them the instant they pledged their fealty.
Betrayal would instantly cause their hearts to burst, leading to death. Thus, they constituted Elena’s ultimate Imperial Guard, destined to remain by her side until the bitter end.
“Please, bestow upon us your final command. Every member of the Black Shadow Corps, myself included, shall obey.”
“Why speak as if we are parting ways forever?”
“B-but, Your Majesty just now…”
“The future remains uncertain. Simply put, while I take my rest, you too should find yours. Pursue whatever you desire, behold whatever you wish to see.”
Saruel, who had just articulated his grim resolve, found himself utterly bewildered by Elena’s response.
As Elena burst into hearty laughter, seemingly shedding all pretense of formality, Saruel stood dumbfounded, utterly bereft of words.
“Then, could it be that a day will come when you reclaim the imperial throne of this nation?”
“I cannot say.”
Though her reply was exceedingly vague, Saruel’s eyes once again glimmered with the light of renewed hope.
Nothing else mattered. If the weary Empress desired to reclaim her imperial seat, he would simply dedicate his body and soul to aiding her endeavor.
“We shall live, always and eternally, for the Great Empress.”
“Farewell. May we meet again someday.”
Rising from his seat, Saruel performed his customary bow, yet with an added reverence, before respectfully withdrawing.
Elena, in turn, offered her farewells, reverting to her customary tone and waving her hand.
This marked their final encounter, a sovereign and her loyal subject, meeting face to face.
****
“Revolution!”
“This decaying empire must be reformed! Overthrow the wicked and tyrannical Empress!”
A millennium ago, on the day the Valtira Empire was purportedly established.
The annual Founding Day celebration stood as the empire’s grandest festival and event.
It was a venerable holiday, steeped in tradition and history, observed with feasting and revelry in nearly every city and village, including the capital, Ruvalen, home to the Imperial Palace.
“Move swiftly! With the Capital Guard and Imperial Guard completely absent, this is our opportune moment!”
Yet, that festive day had now devolved into a tumultuous chaos of cannon fire and fervent shouts.
A converged faction, masquerading as revelers moving for the festival, launched a surprise assault on the capital city of Ruvalen.
They seized their chance, striking when the majority of the Capital Guard had dispersed, by the Empress’s decree, to oversee and assist with festival security, and even the Imperial Guard had departed the palace to inspect the Altar of the Sun—a revered legacy of the former imperial family where the Empress was soon to make her procession. With smuggled weapons, they launched their uprising.
“Good heavens, what in the world is this?”
Most residents of Ruvalen, aghast at the sudden rebellion, initially sought refuge within their homes.
From their perspective, it was as if war had abruptly erupted just as they were at last able to legitimately feast and revel after a long hiatus.
“Comrades, the time has finally come. This is our only chance!”
“The Empress is a dark sorceress! Punish the witch!”
Yet, a considerable number of individuals, seizing this opportune moment, either joined the revolutionary forces or had been discreetly forewarned.
Indeed, before Elena’s transmigration, a significant number of innocents had been sacrificed, and it was undeniable that she was a witch who practiced dark magic and bore a transplanted demon’s heart.
The assembled throngs, in their very presence, became a catalyst, drawing in even greater multitudes.
Engulfed in such fervent zeal, the revolutionary army, accompanied by the surging crowds, stormed directly into the Imperial Palace.
“W-when, for the love of all that’s holy, will the Imperial Guard arrive?!”
“The Guard! Summon the Guard at once! The traitors have already reached the palace gates!”
It was the officials and ministers who found themselves in dire straits (TL Note: A Korean idiom, ‘baldeung-e bul-i tteoreojin,’ meaning to be in a desperate or urgent situation).
These unsuspecting officials, utterly oblivious, merely stamped their feet in mounting frustration, having completely forgotten that the Imperial Guard’s absence from the palace and the Capital Guard’s dispersal were both direct consequences of the Empress’s own commands.
“Y-Your Majesty! Please, you must flee at once! Those crazed rioters are already defiling the Imperial Palace with their filthy feet. We can no longer hold them back!”
“And where, pray tell, would I flee? The entire Imperial Palace is already encircled by these self-important rabble-rousers.”
At the frantic words of the Foreign Minister, who had rushed in, drenched in sweat, Elena, still regally seated upon her throne, merely scoffed.
Elena’s nonchalant demeanor caused the Foreign Minister’s face to drain of all color. In this preposterous revolution, he could discern no path to survival, no matter how desperately he sought one.
“Flee if you so desire, Foreign Minister. That wretch of an Interior Minister already cursed me to my face and fled. As for the others, they never even bothered to appear.”
“Heeek…!”
Shuddering at Elena’s chilling laughter, the Foreign Minister, his smooth, bald crown gleaming where his wig had slipped, faltered as he heard the shouts and gunshots of the approaching enemy growing ever nearer.
In the end, even the Foreign Minister made his escape, leaving Elena utterly alone, for she had long ago instructed all lower-ranking staff, from maids to stewards, to flee.
‘How exhilarating for them. I envy their fervent dedication to life.’
A splintering crunch, followed by the unmistakable sound of something breaking, echoed through the hall.
A heavy thud and a tremor, as if a building were collapsing, resonated through the ground.
The opulent chandeliers swayed precariously, and the elaborate decorations and ornaments adorning the grand hall crashed to the floor, shattering into fragments.
Elena, awaiting their arrival, allowed a faint smirk to play upon her lips.
As she pictured those who, convinced of their revolution’s triumph, would now be utterly consumed by dopamine and adrenaline, she found it nearly impossible to stifle her amusement.
“There she is… the Empress is there…!”
“Composure, Yoolen! Have you so quickly forgotten that the Empress is a witch?!”
Kyle Browner, the leader of the revolutionary faction Equitas, moved to restrain his trembling comrade, Yoolen.
Within the resplendent grand hall, upon its magnificent throne—which the imperial populace believed had been forged from their very lifeblood—the Empress, renowned as a beauty beyond compare, sat haughtily, her legs crossed, awaiting them in solitary splendor.
‘Why, I wonder… why did it succeed with such effortless ease?’
Kyle, observing Elena, found himself swallowing a dry lump in his throat.
Undoubtedly, every facet of their plan had succeeded.
Thousands of people already thronged by their side, and it seemed the heavens themselves had intervened, for even the formidable Imperial Guard, their most troublesome adversary, was now stationed in a distant locale.
Yet, even Kyle, one of the masterminds behind this very plan, found himself bewildered by the uncanny ease with which events unfolded, as if their execution were soaring effortlessly.
While his comrades were intoxicated by the fervor and excitement, growing increasingly impetuous, Kyle alone managed to retain his composure.
‘That man is Kyle Browner. Ren Knaiz’s master, I presume…’
Elena, observing Kyle, allowed the corners of her lips to curve into a faint smile.
How amusing. And utterly captivating.
She, the central figure in this unfolding drama, was purely reveling in the current situation.
“Rensha! Prepare the Purification Spell!”
Kyle, commanding Equitas, instructed his mage comrade to ready themselves for combat with Elena.
Given Elena’s relaxed demeanor, Kyle, who fully anticipated a fierce battle involving dark magic, remained utterly vigilant.
“How insolent and foolish. Do you intend to engage in combat without even a single word?”
‘Not a bad line, if I do say so myself.’
Opening her mouth to provoke Kyle and the revolutionary forces, Elena recited a line she had meticulously prepared. She was quite pleased with the imposing dignity it conveyed.
“Silence, witch! There are survivors who personally witnessed you wielding dark magic!”
Kyle’s reaction, too, was precisely what she had anticipated.
“Purification Spell preparation complete.”
“Attack at once! If the Imperial Guard arrives, all is lost. We have no time to spare!”
In the interim, Rensha, an officer of the Equitas Mage Corps, declared that all preparations were finalized.
Kyle, with a decisive nod, commanded the Mage Corps to unleash their assault upon Elena.
“Fire!”
The Purification Spell, a specialized incantation designed solely for combating dark magic, combined both magical energies and holy water.
From numerous pristine white magic circles conjured by the Mage Corps, chains of arcane power surged forth, hurtling simultaneously toward Elena.
Given that the holy water employed here was personally consecrated by the High Priest of the Holy Order, their preparations were indeed meticulously thorough.
“W-we’ve captured her!?”
The chains instantly coiled around Elena, binding her completely.
They seized and restrained her arms, winding around her entire body to render her utterly immobile, then dragged her forcibly from the throne.
“Purify her!”
At Rensha’s fervent cry, her staff held aloft, the very essence of exorcism began to course through the binding chains.
Elena, as if afflicted by the exorcism’s power, merely grimaced, allowing herself to hang limply as they desired.
“Huh…?”
Yet, Rensha and the other mages instinctively sensed that something was amiss.
This was because a dark sorcerer, when infused with the power of exorcism, should not merely react with a slight grimace.
They ought to have been writhing in agony, as if their very flesh were consumed by fire.
“It appears the holy water’s concentration is somewhat lacking. Did you perhaps dilute it, deeming it too precious?”
“Uwaaaah!”
“The spell is broken…!”
Indeed, the moment Elena subtly tilted her head, drawing forth her magic, the crimson-black energy she unleashed shattered the chains, overpowering the exorcism’s power in reverse.
With the backlash, the screaming Mage Corps members were all thrown backward, tumbling across the floor.
“Fire!”
The remaining troops, who had been on standby, frantically fired their aimed guns.
However, Elena simply met the bullets with her bare body, deflecting them without even a single shield.
“C-could it be… truly?!”
Rensha, rising from the floor, shuddered as she met Elena’s suddenly sharp, chilling gaze.
The implantation of an ancient demon’s heart—a possibility they had inwardly dismissed as unlikely.
If Elena had truly succeeded in this… and not only succeeded but possessed an unprecedented talent for freely wielding its power…
“No! We can’t win! None of us can!”
Rensha shrieked.
What stood before them was no mere human, but a half-human, half-demon fiend.
Indeed, Rensha’s intuition proved correct, for the dark magic minion Elena summoned with a mere flick of her wrist was potent enough to face them all.
“Ah, did I use too much power? I’m feeling dizzy…”
“Huh?”
But at that very moment, amidst everyone’s bewildered confusion, Elena uttered a highly awkward line, staggered, clutched her head, and collapsed.
The intense atmosphere instantly dissipated.
Rensha, and even Kyle, were so dumbfounded by what had just transpired that they simply stared at each other for a moment, completely blank.
“Now, seize her! Seize the witch!”
Still, at a point where Elena wouldn’t look too awkward for having just collapsed, Kyle issued a suitably timed command.
The revolutionary forces rushed forward, pinning Elena down and using magical sealing devices to restrain her arms and neck.
“You’ll have nothing more to say now, I presume.”
“Oh? How remarkable.”
“…We shall see if you can maintain such arrogance before the people who have risen in fury against your tyrannical and hideous rule.”
Kyle strode purposefully forward and roughly tore the crown from Elena’s head.
And so, no one saw it. The wide smile gracing her face, hidden amidst her disheveled hair.
