Ashtoria's gaze changed in an instant.
From shock and pain, it turned into blazing wrath.
The two guards who had attacked her barely had time to strike again when their bodies suddenly froze… then exploded.
BRAKHH!!
Blood sprayed into the air, mingled with chunks of flesh and shards of bone. As if their bodies had become sacks of meat, compressed from the inside and burst like rotting balloons. Their remains slammed against the hallway walls, stuck to the ceiling, splattered across the now-cracked windows, and stained the white stone floor with dark crimson gore.
The sound of their bodies bursting echoed, shaking the structure. Parts of the wall collapsed, glass shattered and flew through the air, and the moonlight that filtered in now mingled with dust and the stench of death.
Ashtoria knelt in the midst of the chaos, her hand clutching the deep wound in her side. Warm blood flowed between her fingers, but her face betrayed no panic.
Her head spun.
Her vision blurred.
The poison… was strong.
Too strong.
It felt like cold fire crawling from her gut to every part of her body. But pain like this... had been her companion for a long time. Her body was already used to suffering that would have killed any normal human.
A flicker of light appeared across her face.
From within that glimmer, a golden helmet materialized—shaped like jagged thorns arching backward—covering part of her face. A symbol of power. A symbol of terror. A sign that the Mad Queen was no longer holding back.
Ashtoria rose.
Her steps staggered, but she stood. She slowly lifted her head, feeling the tremors of approaching footsteps.
Three more guards rushed toward her, faces anxious, but beyond the walls—beyond the corridors of the once-grand palace—she could sense… more.
Many more.
They were closing in from all sides. Surrounding her.
Without warning, Ashtoria's body erupted in a surge of black fire.
FWOOSH!!!
The fire didn't merely burn—it erased. In a blink, it expanded and devoured the entire building. Walls cracked, ceilings collapsed, pillars snapped and caught flame, and human screams were swallowed in the roar of annihilation.
The air filled with the sound of melting metal and crumbling stone. Moonlight gleamed against the black flames that seemed to grow from the earth itself. In less than a minute, the grand palace was nothing but charred ruins.
And in the center of the wreckage... stood a single figure.
Ashtoria.
Her body was still shrouded in black fire, flaring like demonic wings. Her gown was half-burned, replaced by armor forged from the same searing flames. Blood dripped from her wound, but her gaze remained razor-sharp.
She walked forward slowly, leaving behind the smoldering corpse of royalty and stone.
Each step left glowing embers in her wake.
She knew it wasn't over.
She could feel them—dozens, maybe hundreds. Soldiers, assassins, mages—all moving toward her. From alleys, rooftops, underground tunnels.
This attack… wasn't just an assassination attempt.
Shadows emerged from behind the rubble.
Their clothes varied—some dressed like elite knights, others in black assassin garb, and several draped in mage robes. Without orders, they instantly surrounded the lone queen in the burning wreckage.
One of them gave a signal.
Magic arrows, spears, and swords were raised—but they all froze in one instant.
Because Ashtoria looked at them.
THRRAAAKT—!
Their bodies burst simultaneously like meat-filled balloons. Flesh and blood erupted into the sky without a single scream, as if their very existence had vanished before they understood what was happening. Heads, arms, intestines, bone shards—danced through the air before crashing into the rubble.
"W-What was that...?" one of the survivors whispered, trembling.
"She's not human…"
"She's a demon… a demon of destruction…!"
"The reincarnation of catastrophe!"
Panic spread. The survivors now retreated, some falling and crawling backward, others begging, throwing down their weapons while shaking.
But the assault didn't stop.
Suddenly—WUUUSH!!
A massive wind slash surged from afar, cleaving through debris, sweeping away dust and fire like a blade of divine wrath. It tore the ground apart, slicing through everything in its path.
But before it reached Ashtoria—it vanished. Evaporated like smoke in the wind.
With a single glance.
Two high-level mages appeared in a flash—one in front, one behind her—teleportation magic sparking around them. Both drew their blades.
One of them shouted:
"Monster! How are you still alive—even after ingesting that level of poison?!"
They lunged in unison, blades aimed for her heart.
But the black fire around Ashtoria shrank, as if it inhaled—then burst outward.
FWOOOSH!!
In an instant, the attackers were engulfed in flame. No screams. Their bodies disintegrated into shadowy silhouettes, then crumbled into ash.
Three more slashes of wind followed, from different angles—front, right, and behind—encircling her.
But the black fire surged outward again, forming a vortex that caught all three slashes.
They were destroyed before they even touched her.
From the night sky, a man cloaked in lightning hovered above. His body crackled with blue electricity. His eyes blazed like celestial embers. In his hands—a colossal lightning spear formed. He raised it high and hurled it down.
ZRAAAAKKK!!
The spear pierced the sky like divine judgment falling from above.
But before it could strike Ashtoria—it shattered in mid-air, bursting into arcs of electricity.
Yet that attack was a distraction.
From behind the first explosion, a second spear shot forward—faster, sharper.
Ashtoria had no time to counter.
BOOOM!!
A devastating lightning blast erupted where she stood. Blue light tore through the ruins, shaking the earth and hurling debris in all directions.
Dust filled the air.
Silence.
Then—"How…?" the lightning-cloaked man muttered, still hovering in the sky, breath ragged.
But before he could see the result—Ashtoria was already beside him.
Like a phantom of the underworld, she appeared, seizing his head with one hand. Her grip crushed his skull with unnatural pressure. Black fire danced wildly around them.
The man's eyes went wide.
He felt his body rupture from within—bones cracking, blood boiling, heart quivering out of sync.
But he gave a bitter smile.
"DIE, DEMON OF DESTRUCTION!"
His eyes glowed bright blue.
And in a split second—
A thunderous explosion rocket the sky.
The heavens seemed to collapse. Blue lightning burst from the man's body, radiating in a dome of destruction. The earth quaked, the air ignited, and the sky split open.
Both figures vanished, swallowed by the blast.
.
.
.
Night air sliced against her skin like a blunt blade. The crunch of dry twigs beneath her feet echoed like death's footsteps behind her.
Ashtoria Belmore staggered forward, her body covered in dried blood and dust from the carnage.
The wound in her side was still open. Every step was a battle between will and physical ruin. Her breath came in short, shallow bursts, as if her lungs could no longer hold enough air.
She walked away from the fortress—now a nest of assassins. Every face there felt like a mask worn by betrayal.
"No one can be trusted…"
Her eyes scanned the dark horizon with the alertness of a cornered beast. Her heart raced—not from the remnants of battle, but from a fear that refused to die.
She could no longer distinguish between friend or foe.
Worse, she didn't care anymore.
Everyone wanted her dead.
The shadows of trees danced at the edge of her vision. Every rustling leaf, every whisper of wind made her glance sharply around. She nearly slipped on the wet earth, but forced herself forward.
There was no choice.
She had to get away. As far as possible.
Every second in the open was an invitation to death.
Amidst the fear and hatred staining her heart, only one thought repeated in her mind:
"No one can be trusted. Not a single soul. Everyone wants me dead."
Then—her eyes caught something in the distance. Through the hanging mist…
A small house.
Old. Dilapidated. Rotten wooden panels like peeling skin. No light from the windows. No sound. No sign of life.
Silent. Abandoned.
Or so she hoped.
Paranoia surged stronger than before.
What if it was a trap?
What if someone was inside, waiting?
What if the occupant was an enemy in disguise?
But none of it mattered anymore.
She couldn't walk any further.
Trembling, Ashtoria forced herself toward the house. One… two… three steps. She dragged her body across the gravel path, gasping like prey bleeding out.
She reached the door—and collapsed to her knees.
Her hand grabbed the old iron chain around the door handle.
Locked.
She let out a soft groan. Pressed her palm to the lock, trying to shatter it with her power—but her mana was gone. She pushed her remaining strength—whatever was left—to break the barrier. This door, this place… could be her salvation.
But it wasn't enough.
The world tilted.
The sky spun slowly above.
Her vision blurred—the moon behind the clouds swirled like a whirlpool, pulling her into darkness.
"No… not now… don't—"
Before she could finish the thought—her body collapsed.
Her head struck the cold, hard ground. Her red hair sprawled across the dust and gravel. Her body lay motionless before a door that never opened.