Chương 32: Declaration of War

My first thought of her was,

'She's quite arrogant.'

She looked over us, the council like we were nothing more than the chairs we were sitting on… lifeless objects, pieces to be used. It was a feeling I had never experienced the moment I had risen to the status of an Archmage.

"Kachi, what do you think about her?"

"Arrogant… And you?" I asked the man beside me, Archbishop Igmach, otherwise known as Jonnan al Igmach.

From the roof we were sitting on, waiting for her to reveal herself from atop that balcony, he responded with, "She is an arrogant one. However, something felt strange about her. She felt too powerful for her own good."

"You're better than me at detecting Holy Power. Is she some kind of genius?"

"What? Oh, no, I meant in terms of the way she carried herself. For a moment, I thought the Emperor was kneeling before us," Jonnan shivered. "It was an unsettling feeling. I actually felt as if I should have been prostrating myself before her instead."

"You're crazy man," I chuckled, fiddling with my wine-red hair. "I wanted to cut off her head instead—"

Suddenly, I was cut off by an utterly suffocating pressure. The common folk filling the streets couldn't feel it, but I, the man beside me, and the other four members of the council perched on a few other rooftops felt it. We all felt it down the very marrow of our bones.

"Hey."

"Yeah. I know," Jonnan replied.

The suffocating pressure grew with each second. I couldn't help but instantly grab my staff lying beside me while Jonnan clasped his hands together, immediately beginning to pray.

Dead souls swirled around her, their twisted forms clinging to her frame like a cape stitched from the damned. Their faces were contorted in utterly terrifying silent screams, their ethereal bodies writhing as though locked in eternal torment.

The cape of death extended behind her, stretching upward into the sky like a pillar of despair. The air itself seemed to darken as the horrific beacon pierced through the clouds, casting a shadow over the capital that only I and the other council members could see.

"Hey, Jonnan, that's-"

"Yeah, the amount of lives she has taken."

Mastery brings strange truths into focus, truths most will never know. Among those few who ascend the heights of magic, aura, or other profound disciplines, a peculiar phenomenon emerges—the ability to see death.

It isn't like seeing life leave a body or sensing danger, no… it's something far deeper, a vision of the toll a soul carries. Death manifests as a cloak, a mark that clings to those who wield power or take lives, visible only to those who share that same elevated plane of existence. It's a strange bond among the powerful, an unspoken understanding of the burdens others bear.

Each death taken, whether by will or by accident, leaves a trace. The more lives one claims, the heavier the mark becomes. For some, it manifests as faint wisps, barely noticeable. For others, it's a storm, a beacon of anguish that rises beyond comprehension, casting shadows that only the most skilled can see. It's as if the fabric of death itself intertwines with their being, following them wherever they walk.

This knowledge is rarely shared, not because of rules but because of its weight. It's not something taught, and no spell or ritual unveils it. It comes naturally when one reaches mastery, a silent revelation that can never be undone. Those who see death know its language and the stories it tells—of battles, betrayals, and choices that cannot be taken back.

Those who see death carry its burden differently. Some embrace it, seeing it as proof of their strength. Others shun it, haunted by the faces of those they've claimed. But none can ignore it. To see death is to know it intimately, to understand that it is not an end but a part of everything they have become.

"But, how did we not see it before?" I muttered to myself but quickly froze up as the Emperor took his entrance, that thing still clinging to him.

"It does not get any easier seeing that," Jonnan sighed.

"Do you think he can see the souls?" I turned to Jonnan beside me. "I mean, he did surpass even Sven in terms of Aura and you in terms of Holy Power."

"I don't know… but if I had to guess, probably not. Especially with that thing clinging to him."

Soon, the Emperor exited as swiftly as he arrived and the Orb of Holiness was brought out by one of Jonnan's lackeys and presented it to Ophelia on one knee. Even as he knelt amidst the swirling tornado of death, his expression didn't flinch in the slightest. Same with the Holy Knights standing behind Ophelia.

She placed her hand on the orb and all six of us on the council waited with bated breath, waiting for his announcement.

"Nine…" He announced, his voice enhanced by Holy Power.

"What? That's it?" I scoffed.

"No, wait," Jonnan stared in utter horror.

"99.99% Synchronization with the Supreme Command… 99.99% SYNCHRONIZATION WITH THE SUPREME COMMAND!" He announced and the crowd below us popped into wild screams of excitement.

"99.99%! DID YOU HEAR THAT?" A man shouted, his voice straining to outpace the roar.

"THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE! NO ONE IN THE HISTORY OF THIS WORLD HAS EVER GONE BEYOND 95%!" A woman screamed, her eyes wide with shock.

"IT'S HER! SHE'S THE CHOSEN ONE!" Someone cried, their voice rising above the chaos.

"OPHELIA! OPHELIA!" The chant began in sporadic pockets, spreading like wildfire until thousands joined in unison.

"THIS CAN'T BE REAL!" An older man shouted.

"PRAISE THE EMPEROR FOR CHOOSING HER!" A priest bellowed, raising his hands toward the sky. His followers echoed, "PRAISE BE! PRAISE BE!"

The crowd surged forward, pushing closer to the palace, their fervor relentless. "OPHELIA! THE LIGHT HAS COME!"

Children yelled, "SHE'S A GODDESS!" while merchants abandoned their wares to join the growing chant: "OPHELIA! OPHELIA!"

"What… the hell…" Jonnan fell back, but in an instant, we felt something wrong. Something was streaking through the atmosphere at top speed.

"Demonic magic?" I muttered.

…

Ophelia's hand hovered over the orb for a heartbeat longer before she removed it, her fingers steady. As the announcement of her synchronization still rang in the minds of all present, she turned her gaze to the sea of people below. Her piercing eyes swept across the masses like a storm, commanding their attention even before she spoke.

Deliberately, she approached the edge of the balcony. The dead souls swirling around her rose higher, twisting into a faintly discernible halo of anguish. She spread her arms wide, a gesture as calculated as it was unnerving. To a select few in the crowd—like the elven scholar with trembling hands and Colonel Kaden, whose face paled despite his hardened demeanor—it was a sight they had seen before.

That haunting posture stirred a storm of memories.

The crowd stilled. Every eye turned upward, and every voice fell silent. Then, Ophelia spoke, her voice reverberating through the air, amplified by a power that sank into the bones of her listeners.

[Golden Tongue]

"PEOPLE OF THE EMPIRE," she began, her words cutting through the silence like a blade. "FOR TOO LONG, WE HAVE BEEN DIVIDED—BY BLOODLINES, BY TITLES, BY PETTY DISPUTES THAT MEAN NOTHING IN THE FACE OF TRUE THREATS."

Her arms lowered slightly, her gaze sharp and unyielding. "DO YOU REMEMBER THE HUNGER THAT TOOK OUR CHILDREN? THE WARS THAT BLED OUR FAMILIES DRY? DO YOU REMEMBER WATCHING OUR HOMES BURN AND WONDERING IF THERE WAS ANY HOPE LEFT?"

A murmur rippled through the crowd. The memories she invoked were raw, undeniable. She didn't pause.

"THOSE SUFFERINGS DID NOT COME FROM OUR OWN HANDS ALONE. NO. THERE IS A NAME BEHIND YOUR PAIN. THERE IS A FORCE THAT LURKS IN THE SHADOWS, PROFITING FROM YOUR DESPAIR." Her voice rose. "NESSIGOLOPT! THE KINGDOM OF TYRANTS. THE KINGDOM OF LIES. THEY HAVE TAKEN FROM YOU, NOT WITH JUST SWORDS, BUT WITH WHISPERS IN THE DARK. THEY HAVE TURNED YOUR BROTHERS AGAINST YOU, YOUR RULERS AGAINST THE PEOPLE. AND THEY HAVE SAT IN COMFORT WHILE YOU HAVE TOILED."

Faces in the crowd darkened. Anger simmered, rising like embers catching fire. Ophelia's voice grew sharper, slicing through the growing unrest.

"HOW MANY OF YOU HAVE LOST A MOTHER BECAUSE THEIR MEDICINE NEVER CAME OR THEIR MEDICINE WAS TOO EXPENSIVE. HOW MANY OF YOU HAVE FELT THE COLD OF AN EMPTY HOUSE WHILE THEY GREW FAT OFF OUR RESOURCES? HOW MANY MORE OF YOUR CHILDREN MUST CRY THEMSELVES TO SLEEP BECAUSE WE TURNED A BLIND EYE TO THEIR TREACHERY?"

The crowd stirred, fists rising, voices grumbling. Ophelia spread her arms again, her cloak of the damned rising behind her like a great, blackened banner.

"I WILL TELL YOU NOW—NO MORE!" Her words thundered, echoed by the darkened heavens above that only the council members bore witness to. "WE WILL NO LONGER BE THEIR VICTIMS. WE WILL NO LONGER BE THEIR PREY. TODAY, WE STAND TOGETHER. TODAY, WE RAISE OUR BANNERS NOT FOR DIVISION, BUT FOR UNITY. FOR OUR FUTURE. FOR OUR EMPIRE!"

The roar that rose from the crowd literally shook the foundations of the palace. But Ophelia wasn't done.

"WE WILL MARCH ON NESSIGOLOPT. WE WILL TAKE BACK WHAT THEY STOLE. WE WILL SHOW THEM THE POWER OF A UNITED EMPIRE. AND WHEN THE DUST SETTLES, WE WILL BUILD A WORLD WHERE NO CHILD WAKES TO AN EMPTY TABLE. WHERE NO SOLDIER DIES FOR A GREEDY KING'S WHIM. WHERE NO FAMILY IS LEFT IN THE RUINS OF SOMEONE ELSE'S CONQUEST!"

The crowd surged with energy, the chants of her name returning louder than ever. "OPHELIA! OPHELIA! OPHELIA!"

Ophelia let the noise build before delivering her final declaration, her voice rising above even the deafening cries of her people.

"I, THE NEWLY APPOINTED DUCHESS, REPRESENT THE ENTIRE EMPIRE AS OF THIS MOMENT! I, DUCHESS OPHELIA VON AUBESSEC DECLARE WAR ON THE KINGDOM OF NESSIGOLOPT!"

A sharp crack split through the air like the sky itself had torn apart. In an instant, six streaks of energy surged through the atmosphere, converging on the balcony with impossible speed. Seven figures landed in unison. Each carried an aura that radiated a weight of power and intent, freezing the crowd below in stunned silence.

Pinned to the ground beside Ophelia was Jenna Pol, the demoness whose freedom had come from a potion recipe gifted by Ophelia herself. Her current state was no longer anything like her previous form. She was completely turned into a demon, with long horns, purple skin, and pitch-black eyes.

Archmage Medarda stood closest to her head, her staff hovering above Jenna's skull. The tip of the staff pulsed with a deep, wine-red glow, flickering like embers waiting to ignite. Her expression was cold, her stance unwavering, as though the pulsating mana was ready to crush the demoness's resistance in an instant.

To Jenna's side, General Solgrath Medarda held her longsword with a steady hand, the blade gleaming as it rested against Jenna's neck. The faint shimmer along the blade hinted at enchantments crafted for nothing but absolute destruction.

Behind Jenna, General Obfuscator Jakaron stood with a dagger suspended above her spine. The blade was coated in shadows that writhed and twisted, intertwining with one another like living tendrils. His gaze was sharp, and calculating, and the mere proximity of the dagger sent a chill through the air. One move and the dagger's magic would rip her spine in half.

On the other side, General Solgrath Agueric mirrored his counterpart. His longsword, engulfed in a gentle aura of white lilies, rested at the other side of Jenna's neck. The incongruous sight of the floral glow was deceptive, for the blade thrummed with energy, its purpose deadly despite its elegance.

Above them all, from his vantage point on one of the surrounding rooftop's, Archmage Agueric had summoned a chain of fire that coiled around Jenna's legs. The flames burned without smoke, their intensity searing into her skin and binding her limbs together with unrelenting force.

Finally, Archbishop Igmach knelt near Jenna's arms, pinning each of them down with needles of light. The thin beams glowed faintly but burned with an intensity that left her immobilized. His hands were clasped in prayer, but the power emanating from him spoke of neither mercy nor hesitation.

'And the last piece…' Ophelia thought to herself.

"OPHELIA! HELP! AS SOON AS I DRANK THE POTION I WAS FREED BUT NOW I'M UNTETHERED FROM THE OVERWORLD—"

"SILENCE!" General Agueric shouted at the top of his lungs.

There was a loud commotion coming from down below, yet the council members' attention was directed at Ophelia. She remained facing towards the crowd, same with her head, yet her gaze was calmly diverted to Jenna. Clearly, she knew the council members would come to her aid.

Ophelia stepped forward, approaching the edge of the balcony once again. With her arms outstretched, she raised her voice, letting it cut through the ruckus down below.

"PEOPLE OF THE EMPIRE," she began, her voice calm but powerful. "OUR ENEMIES DO NOT REST. EVEN NOW, AS WE STAND TOGETHER, THEY SCHEME IN THE DARKNESS. THEY FEAR OUR STRENGTH, OUR UNITY, AND THE JUSTICE WE WILL BRING UPON THEM."

She paused, her eyes sweeping over the crowd as murmurs rippled through the air. Then, she gestured toward Jenna Pol, still pinned beneath the council's combined force.

"THIS DEMONESS," she declared, her voice ringing out with an edge of righteous fury, "WAS SENT BY THE KINGDOM OF NESSIGOLOPT TO SILENCE ME! TO KILL THE HOPE THAT HAS BROUGHT US TO THIS MOMENT!"

Jenna's voice cracked as she cried out, her desperation spilling forth. "Ophelia! No! You know that's not true! I begged for your help! I just wanted to be free!" Her voice wavered, breaking into sobs. "Why are you doing this? Please, help me!"

Ophelia did not turn. Her gaze remained fixed on the people below, her voice steady as she continued. "THEY WOULD HAVE US BELIEVE WE ARE WEAK. THAT WE WILL FALL TO THEIR SHADOWS. BUT LOOK AROUND YOU! SEE THE LIGHT THAT SHINES IN EACH OF YOU, A LIGHT THEY CAN NEVER EXTINGUISH!"

The crowd stirred, anger bubbling beneath their awe as they absorbed her words. Ophelia's voice rose, fierce and commanding. "THEY WILL STOP AT NOTHING TO DESTROY US. TO TEAR APART OUR HOMES, OUR FAMILIES, OUR FUTURE. THIS ATTEMPT IS BUT ONE OF MANY. BUT WE WILL NOT BOW. WE WILL NOT FALTER."

Jenna thrashed against her bindings, her pleas growing louder. "You know the truth! You know I was never their assassin! Ophelia, please, I trusted you! I trusted—"

"AND TRUST," Ophelia interrupted sharply, her words cutting through Jenna's cries, "IS SOMETHING WE DO NOT GIVE FREELY TO THOSE WHO CONSPIRE WITH OUR ENEMIES."

She stepped back slightly, raising her arms higher, her presence growing even more imposing. "PEOPLE OF THE EMPIRE! WILL WE ALLOW THEM TO CONTINUE THEIR TREACHERY? WILL WE STAND BY AND WATCH AS THEY SEND THEIR AGENTS TO DESTROY ALL WE HOLD DEAR?"

A resounding "NO!" erupted from the crowd, their anger and resolve swelling as Ophelia's speech fueled their fervor.

"THEN WE MUST STRIKE BACK!" she thundered. "WE WILL MARCH TO NESSIGOLOPT. WE WILL BRING JUSTICE TO THEIR DOORSTEP. AND WE WILL NOT STOP UNTIL EVERY SHACKLE THEY HAVE PLACED ON US IS BROKEN UNTIL EVERY HAND THAT HAS RAISED AGAINST US HAS BEEN SILENCED!"

The crowd roared in response, their cries of vengeance shaking the ground beneath their feet. Ophelia lowered her arms, her gaze piercing as she addressed them one last time. "REMEMBER THIS DAY. REMEMBER THIS MOMENT. FOR TODAY, WE DO NOT JUST RISE AGAINST OUR ENEMIES. TODAY, WE BECOME UNSTOPPABLE!"

The air exploded with the deafening cheers of thousands, their chants of "OPHELIA! OPHELIA!" reaching a fever pitch. The citizens felt their hearts burning with the passion of her words.

"You… YOU BITCH! I KNEW IT WAS TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE! OPHELIA YOU FUCKING DEMON! I WILL KILL YOU! I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU FOR BETRAYING ME!" Jenna screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Hm?" Ophelia swept her eyes back towards Jenna, her pupils darkening and beginning to swirl like a whirlpool of madness. Her calm expression turned into a twisted smile as her eyes swept back to the crowd below. "You? Kill me?"

The council stood around Jenna, their hands raised and crackling with magic, aura, and holy power, preparing to end her as the demoness continued to struggle against her restraints. Despite Ophelia's earlier command to stay their hands, the council members glanced at each other, their resolve firm. The tension between them rose as their powers grew more concentrated, the air around them crackling with anticipation.

But Ophelia's voice rang out again, calm yet sharp as a blade.

"Don't kill her yet."

She hadn't even turned her head, her gaze still locked on the crowd below. The council froze, their energy flickering uncertainly. For a moment, it seemed as though they might ignore her, but then Ophelia moved.

Her piercing eyes swept away from the crowd and onto them, her presence crashing into the council like a wave of suffocating authority. A chill ran down their spines, their breaths catching in their throats. The weight of her gaze was almost physical, and for a terrifying moment, it felt as though it might crush them entirely.

Ophelia's voice cut through the silence, quiet yet unyielding. "Kachi, raise her in the air."

Archmage Medarda, known to most as Kachi von Medarda, stiffened. Her lips curled into a sneer as she began, "You dare address me by my—"

But the words died in her throat as Ophelia's gaze bore into her. The air seemed to constrict around her neck, and for the briefest moment, Archmage Medarda felt her strength falter. She clicked her tongue in frustration, masking her discomfort, and obeyed. With a flick of her hand, Jenna was lifted into the air, her body writhing as she cursed and spat at Ophelia.

"You think you're a savior?" Jenna's voice cracked, her fury barely containing her fear. "You're no better than the monsters you claim to fight!"

Ophelia stepped closer to the edge of the balcony, her presence looming larger than ever. She raised her voice, addressing the Empire with a solemnity that chilled even the council.

"THIS," she began, gesturing toward the struggling demoness, "IS THE FATE OF THOSE WHO COME FROM NESSIGOLOPT. THOSE WHO THINK THEY CAN THREATEN OUR PEACE, OUR FUTURE, WILL FIND ONLY ONE END."

The crowd erupted into cheers, their fervor feeding off her words. Jenna's voice cut through the noise, her curses growing louder, but the people's cries drowned her out.

Without breaking her commanding tone, Ophelia turned her head slightly, her gaze locking onto Archmage Agueric. She gestured subtly into the distance, her meaning clear.

The Archmage, tall and regal, nodded with the barest motion, his calm demeanor betraying none of the brutal certainty in his next action. With a single gesture, he summoned a wave of brilliant blue flames. The fire consumed Jenna in an instant, her cries of rage and agony ringing out briefly before being swallowed by the roar of the crowd.

"OPHELIA! OPHELIA!" they chanted, their voices filled to the brim with adrenaline. The sound of her name on their lips rose above the flames, above the final echoes of Jenna's defiant cries.

"Opheliaaaaa!" Jenna bloodcurdling cried.

"OPHELIA! OPHELIA! The crowd continued to chant.

"OPHELIAAAAA!" Jenna cried once more before her body dissipated into ash.

"OPHELIA! OPHELIA! OPHELIA! PRAISE THE NEW DUCHESS! PRAISE DUCHESS AUBESSEC! PRAISE THE HOLY EMPIRE!"