The nearer I got to the camp, the clearer the flames became, flickering hungrily against the night.
People ran in all directions as knights dressed in black armour mercilessly cut down innocent villagers.
I nudged my horse forward, urgency beating in my chest while I scanned every corner of the settlement for any sign of Aria.
My heart pounded painfully as the worst possibilities flooded my thoughts.
I forced those fears aside; I wouldn’t accept them until I witnessed the truth myself.
Children and parents begged for mercy while the knights slaughtered men and women, sparing only the youngest girls.
I ignored them—they weren’t my priority.
It might seem cruel, but I couldn’t care less.
My eyes scoured the chaos for Aria, my voice breaking as I called her name repeatedly.
Then my gaze landed on a familiar figure: an older woman with grey eyes and white hair, her arm severed and blood pooling beneath her.
I recognised her instantly—Aria’s nanny, the one I’d trusted to keep her safe.
“Where is she?” My voice rang out, hard and commanding.
“The emperor—” she coughed blood, her eyes growing dimmer by the second.
“Hurry,” I urged, desperation thick in my voice.
She clutched her chest, struggling to speak.
“The, the emperor, he, took Ari—” She didn’t finish; death claimed her mid-sentence.
My head spun as dread seeped into my bones.
The emperor?
What was she saying?
I didn’t have time to process it.
I pushed deeper into the chaos, desperation driving every step.
For some reason, the royal guards let me pass, ignoring me entirely.
It was strange, but desperation left no room for questions—I ignored them right back.
When I finally reached the centre of the clearing, my heart sank.
There, lounging on a throne like he owned the world, sat a blond-haired man—Emperor Tarik Noborn.
He spotted me and smiled with delight.
“Ah, General Asmari.
You finally came—I was starting to worry you wouldn’t.
Your family is still your weakness, I see.” His grin widened, smug and mocking.
“Where is she?” I growled, fury burning in my eyes.
He only chuckled, clearly amused.
“My, so aggressive.
Relax—she’s alive.” I exhaled in relief, but kept my guard up.
“What do you want?” I immediately asked.
“Still as sharp as ever, I see,” he said, playful. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
“If you’re that desperate, how about working for me again—like old times?”
“I’ll do it,” I said without hesitation.
“In exchange, give Aria back—now.” The emperor only chuckled.
“Very well, your daughter is right here,” he said, gesturing to a circle of guards.
They stepped aside, revealing a seven-year-old girl who looked just like me.
Her small frame was barely covered, her body battered and bruised.
Her fingers were broken and twisted, nails torn away.
Whip marks criss-crossed her skin—visible to everyone, including her tutor.
Chains bound her arms.
Her tear-stained face was empty, her eyes almost lifeless.
I stood frozen, unable to move a muscle.
My eyes, once filled with hope and relief, widened in horror.
It felt as if my heart had been torn from my chest.
Adrenaline faded, my knees—steady even in battle—suddenly growing weak.
My eyes filled with tears as I whispered her name, voice trembling.
“Aria.”
The emperor’s maniacal laughter echoed from his throne.
“You should have seen her face as she was tortured.
She screamed, ‘Papa, Papa, come save me.'” His guards joined his laughter, one even wiping tears of amusement from his eyes.
I couldn’t even get angry; pain hollowed me out, an ache deeper than anything I’d ever felt—even at my parents’ funeral.
“Aria,” I called again, louder, desperate for any reaction.
Aria’s lifeless gaze finally lifted, meeting mine.
In her eyes that were once full of despair, hope returned.
Fresh tears brimmed, threatening to spill.
“Pa…pa.” Her voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper.
My heart ached; tears blurred my vision and streamed down my face.
“Don’t worry, Aria.
Papa is here.” Relief softened her features, a faint smile flickering through her pain.
I mirrored her smile and took a step forward.
But as I did, my world shattered.
Thud, thud, thud.
Aria’s head hit the ground, rolling to a stop at my feet.
Her orange eyes fixed on me, accusation and betrayal etched in them.
My knees buckled, and I collapsed.
My eyes locked on the lifeless head of the one who meant everything to me. Find the original chapter at g.com.
Laughter resounded somewhere behind me.
They mocked my naivety, but I had no strength left—not even to cry.
I felt nothing—just emptiness—a void where my heart had been.
I reached for Aria’s head, but as I did, the world twisted and fractured—the reality I knew collapsing until I was wrenched back to consciousness.
A flood of fragmented memories crashed into my mind.
I dropped to my knees, breath ragged, sweat slicking my brow.
A large orange magic circle glowed beneath me.
I remembered—the test.
The memories were faint, hazy, and I could recall little beyond that day.
But I wasn’t supposed to remember; in every route I’d taken with Kevin, he’d never recalled the second test.
Then realisation struck.
It was that mother fucker Amon’s doing; the trial wasn’t supposed to be this brutal.
He’d deliberately made it as harsh as possible for me.
He’d even let fragmented memories slip into my mind, hoping to traumatise me.
And I knew exactly why: rage surged inside me as I glared up at Amon.
But to my shock, he was already on the floor, his severed arm lying beside him, a katana at his throat wielded by an enraged woman—my older sister, Octevia.
“You know you went too far,” she said at last, her voice bearing that same domineering pride as Hokori’s—enough to make most men wince.
“You were supposed to stop the test when he made his choice—not after breaking him.” Her grip on the katana tightened, anger and disdain clear in her voice.
“He’s a Dragaoth—he should be able to handle this much,” Amon said, his signature sly grin in place.
Octevia looked ready to strike again, but the headmaster cut in.
“Enough,” the headmaster said, her powerful voice echoing through the chamber.
Octevia shot her a glare, then sheathed her katana with practised elegance and returned to her seat, her indifference restored.
But before she sat, she glanced at me—and to my surprise, beneath her indifference was a trace of pity and apology.
I couldn’t understand why and tried to figure it out, but the headmaster soon drew my attention away.
She lifted a finger, and the blood from Amon’s shoulder snaked across the floor, reattaching his severed arm in an instant—as if it had never been cut off.
Blood Authority, I thought.
She could even revive the dead—if less than a minute had passed.
I glanced at the other evaluators and saw Talia and Isak watching me with pity.
I couldn’t understand why.
I stood, only then realising why they looked at me with such pity—tears were falling from my eyes before I noticed.
I wiped them away, but they kept coming, streaming down like a waterfall.
When the tears finally stopped and I’d regained my composure, Syira’s emotionless voice cut through the silence.
“Let’s move on to the last test.” I nodded, bracing myself for the final challenge—the combat evaluation that would determine my place in the academy.