Priscilla left the series of tunnels with several men following behind her. The remaining mercenaries stayed underground with the townspeople, freeing the emaciated women and slowly bringing them to the surface.

  A sigh escaped her lips as Priscilla gazed out at the ransacked town. Her gaze blurred into the horizon, seemingly distant as her thoughts swirled.

  Jensen placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay, Pris. You did what had to be done. You can't let it get to you." He said, reassuring her.

  "I know," Priscilla replied, her voice soft and sullen. "When I was chained to the pyre and the flames consumed me, I felt relief that I could finally be free. I only hope that those poor souls could feel the same."

  "The world is filled with evils, vile and wretched. The masses are oblivious to the suffering that encroaches upon them from every corner of the continent. I wonder how they would react? Would they rejoice for a swift death or struggle against the invaders?" Priscilla said as she vocalized her ruminations.

  "Honestly, I've no clue, Pris," Jensen replied matter-of-factly. "All I know is that we must continue on this path no matter how despicable it may be. Nobody else will struggle the same way you can, and we'll follow you on that path, no matter what."

  Priscilla smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Jens."

  "How many of them do you think will join us?" She innocently questioned as she thought about what they'd endured already.

  "After everything they've seen? I think most will want to join, but we have to let the young ones and the old and feeble stay. It doesn't leave us with a whole lot of options. They're tired, Pris. It's a miracle most of them are even alive." Jensen replied.

  "That's true," Priscilla said. "In fact, we might end up with fewer people since we'll need to leave some of the men to protect the ones that remain until our people arrive."

  "I don't think it'll be that severe," Jensen said, scratching his chin as he thought about the numbers. "We should end up numbering higher by about one hundred men if my estimates are correct."

  "That would be amazing if true." Priscilla nodded with a smile. "If our numbers continued growing at that rate, the empire would have to take us seriously when we enter the imperial city."

  "Well, if the imperial city even stands by the time we get there," Priscilla added somewhat dejectedly. "If not, we'll need the numbers merely to survive and fend off the demons."

  Jensen chuckled, "Hopefully, it isn't that damned over there. Not sure how we'd contend with them if they'd already consumed that much of the empire."

  "We'll see soon enough." Priscilla nodded.

  It took some time to bring the emaciated women from the depths of the underground tunnels. But once they were above ground, they were filled with joy that brought tears to their eyes.

  Seeing them saddened Priscilla as their emaciated forms reminded her of her mother when she lay on the brink of death, more bone than a woman. The sallow cheeks and sunken eyes. The visible bones taut against the dried-up skin that cradled each one. Each part of the women was left in a pitiful state and would take a lifetime of care to restore.

  The men worked quickly. They gathered scraps and set up makeshift shelters and beds for the weary women to rest while they waited for the rest of Priscilla's people to arrive.

  As the cycles of day and night flickered across the sky several times, the day finally came when Priscilla prepared to continue the journey forward. She sat atop her steed with the chilly morning wind coursing through her hair. To her sides were Jensen and Azhir, and flanking them were Vera and Vorn. Behind them stood the hundreds of mercenaries, imperial soldiers, common people, and the freedmen who survived Mugwort's torture, seriousness plastered on their faces as they etched Priscilla's valiant form into their minds.

  Priscilla turned to those behind her. "For the living. For the deceased. You've chosen to fight, to stake your lives in the hopes of a brighter future. What has been said before, I won't say again, but what I will say is this: Our journey will be difficult. Unspeakable evils shall block our path. But we shall conquer. We shall liberate those that need freeing. Save those that need saving. And purge the empire of the filth that infests it." She said, her noble aura shining like a beacon in the foggy morning.

  "We've done what we can, and those that endured the demons' torture will be safe. Now, we must go." She said, turning toward the horizon. "If we don't fight, nobody will so let us make sure nobody else has to suffer the way you've suffered—the way your loved ones have suffered."

  "Let's go!" She roared, striking the horse's side with her boot and taking off toward the imperial city.

  "Let's go!" The others echoed, following Priscilla with a thundering of hooves and carriages.

  The scenery of the continent was a strange contrast of beauty and terror. Villages lay neglected, towns unmolested, and those that stood testaments of the ruin brought upon by the demonic scourge. Whether or not there was a logic or pattern to their conquest of the imperial lands remained unknown, but one thing they did know was all paths led to the imperial city.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  As Priscilla's group rode through the shifting currents of peace and destruction, they swarmed through one village after another. Where peace remained and the residents blissfully unaware, they tried to reason with them, and if reason failed, the force of numbers became a necessity.

  They could not afford to flail around based on feelings. They could not neglect people purely for their stubbornness. Lives were at stake. Only by being firm with the people and instilling the raw and desperate circumstances could they grasp the opportunity to save more people before running out of time.

  Within one village, blood splattered the soil, a crimson blanket of death that encompassed the bloated demonic flesh that festered throughout it. The men raged through it, putting their bodies on the line as they hacked and slashed at the creatures, relentlessly splitting demon after demon as the sights of their loved ones flickered through their minds.

  Priscilla watched calmly. She could help—she could lead from the front and ensure most of them survived. But like raising plants in a greenhouse, if the fighters only experienced ideal conditions without any semblance of danger, they would never grow to be a mighty and unrelenting force that could fight against the threats ahead.

  "Are you sure about this, My Lady?" Vorn rode up to Priscilla and asked.

  "Mhm. Our people are too mixed. Compared to trained armies, they're mere rabble and street dogs gathered together. Only by putting their lives on the line time and time again in these upcoming days will they grow and mesh together into a legion we can rely on." Priscilla replied.

  She may have been young. But Priscilla was noble. Duke Valentine had her educated in the arts, histories, and military tactics of the empire. A ducal daughter was not a position for the lighthearted who could simply smile and wave and pass the days in blissful ignorance. Even if she resented her days, the ingrained knowledge that was etched into her was not something even death could fade away.

  "Anyway, don't worry too much about them, Vorn. Jens and Azhir are within their ranks doing what they can so that not too many perish meaninglessly." Priscilla added.

  "Understood, My Lady." Vorn nodded. "It is rather exciting. From mere mercenaries and dregs to staking everything against monstrous odds."

  "From an abandoned daughter to a crusading witch..." Priscilla added with a soft chuckle.

  "Whatever the case, just don't get carried away. We might be staking our lives, but that doesn't mean throwing them away." Priscilla said, placing her hand on Vorn's shoulder. "You should go now, help them from the shadows. It'd be nice if none of them would fall during these weeks until we reach the city, but we'll wait and see."

  "As long as no one deep in their ranks like Blackthorn or Mugwort shows up, we should be fine."

  "I'll do as you wish, My Lady," Vorn nodded, smiling as she clutched her reins. She added with a chuckle before departing, "As long as we have you at our back, can they even hurt us?"

  Priscilla watched Vorn depart with a distant gaze that moved beyond the woman's small back as it blended into the crowd, shifting gradually toward the distant horizon that led to the empire. They believe in me, but will I ever live up to their hopes? Priscilla thought, sighing softly. She couldn't afford to show weakness—not when the fate of the entire continent could crumble, and all the lives turn into ash along with it.

  But despite it, she still felt the lingering apprehensions.

  The powers Priscilla had received from Zae-Rin were far from the omnipotent notions Vorn believed in. Only explaining that would be unreasonable for someone who hadn't experienced the cold embrace of purgatory and the surreal enchantments that dwelled within it.

  It would be nice if they were endless streams of possibilities, but the mystic marks etched into Priscilla's bones were a finite resource. One that attunes itself to the world and the stars and allows one to manifest the eight laws of creation. Sure, a powerful beast that, to the ordinary mortal, may seem omnipotent, but it was a limited source, nonetheless.

  Priscilla sighed once more. So many things had changed since she'd returned. It seemed like no time had passed, yet the world around her was changing drastically—even she was changing more than she ever would've imagined. Soon, she would step foot in the golden city that she once called home, from the slums as her mother withered and died miserably to the noble rat race that her father pressured her into.

  All around Priscilla, the battles raged like the stoked embers of an erupting blaze. The fury of humanity was on display as it spiraled into the clouds. The feral demons slammed against the fighter's determined flesh, unwilling to forfeit such precious morsels to another, but in doing so, they made themselves susceptible to an endless onslaught of fatal strikes.

  In doing so, the men themselves were not immune. Their bodies became littered with nicks and gashes, some more serious than others. But their adaptability proved frightening in such dire straits with the demons' bared fangs and sharpened claws hanging by their necks.

  Not everyone was as fortunate. While the group moved from the small settlements to the villages and townlets, everyone could not survive the frequent battles, but while some fell, others rose up in opposition. The residents of the liberated areas, seeing the valiant men and women riding to their rescue when the empire had failed them, brimmed with a pure belief that supported and propped up those who continued to fight against the odds. They were the brave, valiant, and mighty liberators who came to save and protect the ordinary folk. And the people saw it clear as day regardless of how shrouded in darkness the starlit sky became.

  Priscilla crossed her arms, spectating the shifting tides with utter neutrality. Despite her coldness, no one spoke a word of complaint against her. In the depths of their being, all those fighting knew why she was passive. Survival had to be claimed by oneself. Relying on Priscilla alone could work for the most maniacal of threats, but against the rabble and fodder that swarmed the demon's ranks, if she were the one that had to fight them off to protect her people, they would never make any waves against the demonic threat.

  Jensen came up to Priscilla with sweat drenching his brow. "We've lost four dozen but gained three hundred so far. Everyone's been adapting well to the battles and managing their stamina. If it continues like this, we may still have a force to be reckoned with by the time we reach the city."

  "Good. We can mourn the losses with the demons' ashes. We won't let their sacrifices go to waste." Priscilla solemnly replied. "Thanks for that, Jens. You've done great minimizing the casualties."

  "It's the least I can do," Jensen shrugged before brushing off the sweat from his weary brow. "This battle is bigger than all of us separately. All we can do is struggle together and adapt."

  "That's right." Priscilla nodded. "We've nearly made it. Now it all comes down to stopping their plans before things end up even worse for the innocent."

  "Let's end this, Jens. We continue onward!" Priscilla commanded.