“Queen Rhiannon,” Eugene said, letting his spear fall before dropping to one knee.

  He wasn’t the only one. One by one, every member of Haven kneeled before her.

  “We swear our blades to Princess Allison Rhiannon,” Eugene declared. “We wish to protect her, to serve in her army.”

  The others echoed him without hesitation.

  The queen slowly turned to face them. Her mismatched eyes, one cold and one burning, swept across the group with an interest that wasn’t exactly surprise but hovered near it. Her presence seemed to thicken the air, altering the atmosphere with nothing more than a shift of posture.

  “You swore your blades to Allison?” she asked. There was a sliver of amusement in her voice, the kind that flickered for only a breath.

  “Yes. Our lives,” Eugene said firmly. “We owe her everything for what she did in the tutorial. If not for her, all of us, nearly two thousand people, wouldn’t be standing here.”

  “We want to be part of her army. We’ve pledged loyalty to your family. We even marked our armor with your sigil,” Miriam added, lifting her chin proudly.

  The queen studied them one by one. Several pointed to their chests, where hand-painted symbols glimmered weakly under the thin drizzle. The marks looked out of place on those rough, dented armors.

  “You know… there’s something amusing about this,” she said slowly. “Wearing the crest of a noble family without permission, and with military intent, is punishable by death.”

  A collective breath caught in the group’s throat. Faces drained of color. No one dared move.

  “But I’ll overlook it this once. Throw those scrap-metal costumes away. You’re staining the reputation of my smiths and my family by parading around in that garbage.”

  Without waiting for a reply, she turned and resumed her walk toward the forest, as if the matter was nothing more than an errand checked off her list.

  “Your Majesty…” Eugene called, voice unsteady. “And what about what we asked? May we serve Princess Allison?”

  Queen Rhiannon didn’t turn back. She stood still for a moment, thoughtful. Luke noticed her hand rise to her chin. Eventually, she glanced over her shoulder, just enough for one of her eyes to meet the group.

  “Travel to my kingdom without teleportation. Go on foot, by your own strength, on a journey that may last months. Face whatever the road puts before you; let those who must perish, perish. When you arrive, join the army. Prove yourselves. Rise through the ranks and… perhaps I’ll consider your request.”

  “Thank you, my queen,” Eugene said, and the others repeated the words reverently.

  She didn’t respond. She simply vanished among the trees, indifferent to the fact that many of them were still kneeling in the mud.

  The Haven group remained bowed, absorbing the weight of their own choice. Maybe they hadn’t heard the conversation between Luke and Allison, the storm had drowned out nearly everything. Or maybe they had heard and decided not to care.

  Either way, they were ready to devote themselves to Allison Rhiannon.

  But Allison… had no desire to remain a Rhiannon.

  As everyone struggled to their feet, Luke kept his eyes fixed on the direction where the Queen had vanished. Something burned inside him, restlessness, maybe indignation. Before anyone could react, he broke into a run after her.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “What are you doing?” Eleanor called out in surprise, but Luke didn’t answer.

  He pushed forward between the trees. The forest swallowed him quickly.

  Angie’s voice echoed in his mind, firm and worried: ‘My lord, this enemy is far above your level. Please, do not act recklessly.’

  Luke ignored the warning. The rhythm of his footsteps, his breathing, and his heartbeat blended with the rustle of leaves. He activated Assassin’s Tracking, and the world sharpened around him. On the damp soil and wet grass, he spotted footprints, clear and defined, as if something far heavier than her frame had pressed them into the earth.

  The Queen wasn’t trying to hide. She didn’t need to. A monarch of her caliber feared no one following her. Especially not someone so far beneath her.

  Luke pressed on, leaving the storm behind. The forest thinned until it opened into a wide clearing. And there, standing at a distance, was the Queen.

  Rhiannon stood with her back turned, staring at the sky as if contemplating something beyond the clouds. Her long white hair drifted in a wind that didn’t seem to come from anywhere. In her hand was the mask she had previously worn on her face.

  Luke stopped several paces behind, trying to steady his breath. Too far to clearly see her face beyond the curtain of hair, yet he could feel her presence, sharp, icy, overwhelming.

  “Why did you do that?” he asked without hesitation. “You know Allison didn’t want to go back to your kingdom, and you must know she has no interest in nobility. You don’t even like her. So why not let her live a simple life?”

  The words escaped too fast, fueled by frustration and a reckless spark of courage.

  The mask vanished from her hand, dissolving into the air like it had never existed. She lifted one hand and pushed her hair back in a slow, almost idle gesture, still facing the sky. The temperature dropped by a few degrees, not enough to bite the skin, but enough for Luke to feel the silent warning.

  “Should a dragon waste time with the questions of an ant?” she replied without turning. “No. It should not. A dragon flies above all others, displaying its sovereignty. If the ant cannot reach the sky to ask its question, why should the dragon descend to the earth to answer it?”

  The atmosphere shifted in an instant.

  The air turned so cold that Luke’s breath came out in clouds. The grass beneath his boots lost its color, fading into a bluish tint as frost crawled over each blade. Snow formed from the ground up, spreading outward as if it were blooming from the Queen’s feet. A razor-sharp wind swept across the clearing, shaking the surrounding trees.

  The Queen took a single step forward.

  Her body began to glow, bright and white like sunlight on fresh snow. The light pulsed, growing stronger with each wave, and with it the temperature plummeted even further. A shiver ran down Luke’s back, not from the cold but from the raw force radiating off her. Her breathing grew louder, deeper, as if each inhale drew power from the air and each exhale returned something far heavier.

  Then the glow changed shape. It expanded, spreading outward until it formed the outline of something immense.

  When the light finally dimmed, Luke froze.

  A massive dragon filled the clearing.

  Its scales were white as newborn ice, its body lined with sharp blue spines running from skull to tail. The air around it thrummed with cold; every breath it released made the trees sway as if the exhalation carried real weight.

  It dwarfed the wyvern Luke had fought. This wasn’t a creature.

  It was authority made flesh.

  The Queen had taken her true form.

  The enormous dragon lowered its head and fixed its gaze on Luke. One eye gleamed icy blue; the other burned crimson. Both glowed with an intelligence that felt ancient, merciless, and far too aware.

  The dragon beat its wings once. The gust alone sent leaves and snow bursting into the air. Luke braced himself, feet digging into the frozen dirt.

  With a single, powerful leap, the beast surged upward. In seconds it had climbed beyond reach, accelerating effortlessly, a white streak against the gray sky until it blurred into a distant point and vanished.

  Luke didn’t move. He only watched. That was the difference between him and someone who bore the title King of the World. Even so, he didn’t look away. His eyes followed the dragon until it disappeared completely.

  “In that case,” he murmured, “the ant just has to knock the dragon out of the sky.”

  A system window flickered before him.

  [Your servant Princess Charlie has recovered from her injuries]

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