The heavy door slammed shut behind her.
Boom.
The murmur from the Hall of Stone Pillars cut off instantly. Only the scrape of her soles against the stone floor remained, and the dull, insistent thud of her own heart—pounding so hard it felt ready to crack her ribs open.
Her heart raged in her chest. Even through the cold metal of the mask, the hammering refused to quiet.
…What the hell am I doing?
The armor of anger she had just wrapped herself in cracked. Icy regret stabbed deep into her breast. Her legs moved on their own, carrying her farther from the Hall, farther from
that face
. Randel’s face.
It wasn’t fear she had seen there. It was the face of someone betrayed—raw, twisted pain.
She had done it on purpose. Cruelly. So brutally that every path back would be severed.
This is necessary. This way you’ll be safe, Randel.
Lies. Her heart screamed the opposite. She was running. From his warmth. From those trusting eyes that would have accepted her however she came. From a future where she could have simply been Amanda. Where she wouldn’t have to lie every second of every day.
From the moment she first saved him in that forest, the road back had already been closed forever.
She stepped out into the old gallery—the one leading to the palace's rear gates. Here the air smelled of damp stone and chill. Walls of rough-hewn rock, laid by the first Aichenwalds centuries ago. The sconces burned dimly, their flames throwing long, trembling shadows across the masonry. Her footsteps echoed hollowly in the silence.
At last she could stop. She leaned back against the wall, feeling the cold seep through her cloak and into her spine. She closed her eyes behind the mask. The anger ebbed, leaving only emptiness and a cold, merciless clarity in its wake.
Declare war on the Emperor?
The thought beat against her skull like a trapped bird.
That was an insane gamble. I just wagered the very legitimacy of the Empire. Cassius can no longer ignore me. He’ll either kill me… or deify me.
Both options were pure hell. But those were tomorrow’s problems. Right now a more immediate threat loomed: Gul-Nadar’s mounted horde. Tens of thousands of riders, war mammoths, iron discipline.
She pushed off the wall. Took a step. Rummaging through memory—through the scant, fragmented scraps of information left behind by
Yamada Light
.
By the canon of the book, she remembered the details. Randel had died in the forest. At the hands of the mercenaries of the “Crimson Claws.” The old duke hadn’t survived the loss of his son. Roxana, left alone, had tried to hold onto power, but the duchy had plunged into chaos. And right on its heels came Gul-Nadar. Merciless. Iron. Unstoppable.
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“But now everything is different,” Amanda thought, and the realization brought a strange, cold relief. “Randel is alive. Tywin can still fight. Roxana isn’t alone. And here… there’s me.”
The story had derailed. Memory had burst beyond the frame of the original. Into the realm of fan creation. Reaction videos. Comparison tables. Endless forum debates. “Ranking of the strongest characters.” “Who would win: Roxana or Gul-Nadar?”
She froze. The flame of the lamp flickered on the stone floor, casting bizarre shadows across the walls. A ringing started in her head.
Gul-Nadar. The Iron Claw.
In the original, he had barely existed. Just a natural disaster that appeared out of nowhere to finish off the already-fallen duchy. But the fans… the fans had turned him into a god of war.
That very ranking she’d scrolled through out of boredom. Strength. Speed. Tactics. Charisma. Almost every stat maxed out. He yielded to Emperor Cassius only in raw physical power. Yielded to Roxana only in swordsmanship technique. But in overall combat prowess and strategic intellect… he crushed everyone.
A massive body covered in scars. Beast pelts and steel armor forged by unknown northern smiths. Eyes — cold as a glacier, empty as a winter sky. He sensed the battlefield like it was an extension of his own body. An iron will that had forged scattered tribes into a single fist.
“Fuck no…” Her own mechanical voice echoed hollow in the silence of the gallery.
He wasn’t a barbarian. He was a military genius. He
was
an army — forged in blood and discipline.
And he was coming here.
And she had made bold declarations in the throne room. “I’ll handle the vanguard in the forest myself.” Their elite scouts. Their thousands of cavalry.
Cold sweat trickled down her back. Her recent bravado now felt childish. A kid playing at being a hero.
But there was no retreat. Imperial spies watched her every move. Every step would be reported to Cassius. The only option left was to act. And to act like an
ancient being
. Devastatingly. In a way that instilled terror.
Her fists clenched.
Whirr—
The low hum of servos echoed off the stone walls.
Fear crystallized. Melted down. Reforged into resolve.
Good.
She pushed off the wall. Back straight, shoulders squared. Each step — confident, heavy, inevitable.
I’ll play the role of the ancient being. They want a legend? I’ll give them a legend.
Ahead lay the dark corridor. The exit to the Inner Courtyard. And from there — into the Forest. Soon that forest would run red with blood.
Randel’s pain… she no longer dwelled on it. It had been nothing more than a branch in the path. A mere twig compared to the hurricane bearing down.
Now her mind was occupied with other things. Terrain. Narrow trails. Ravines where their horses would bog down. Ancient trees she could make speak the language of fear. A performance that would leave professional soldiers trembling in their armor.
Beneath the mask, a hard smirk froze in place.
This isn’t fun.
It was the cold smile of a predator backed into a corner — one that had realized the only way out was to strike first.
Inside her wasn’t just a living heart. There was a body of steel. And a mind — the mind of a human from a world where wars weren’t won with swords and spears, but with information and cold calculation.
All right then, Gul-Nadar.
She stepped into the night. Wind tugged at the edges of her cloak. Stars glittered coldly overhead.
Let’s play.
Your legend against mine.
We’ll see which of us is the more terrifying.
She headed toward the stables, where Leo had already prepared a saddled horse. Her heartbeat was steady, calm. And only deep inside, where Yamada Light still hid, came a quiet, frightened whisper:
I’ll make them fear. A nightmare even your shamans have never seen.