It was over for her.

Sure, things hadn't gone as planned at first. The idea was to ambush whoever ended up on the losing side of this battle, whether it was Arianna or Cleon. By his Masiach and the group's own assessment, it was more likely to be Arianna, even though she seemed confident in the battle she'd arranged. From his own perspective, he thought it might be her too. But surprisingly, it wasn't. That should've meant Cleon was the one to be ambushed, which was unarguably better. After all, Cleon was a bona fide monarch, one who'd ruled this continent unchallenged for almost a thousand years.

Anyway considering the said outcome of the battle, Claudiu should've teleported Cleon to them, not her. But as Claudiu put it, due to Arianna's unexpected reaction to their arrival, he had no choice but to teleport her to them instead.

The most concerning thing about this—besides their inability to appraise her—was that, despite Claudiu’s claims of her besting the Emperor, she didn’t look all that worn out. But as he observed the situation, noting her hesitation and confusion, and considering that Cleon was dying on the other side of this dimension while Arianna was stuck with them, he realized this could actually be the best possible outcome.

They were five level-80-ish Highbreeds and Verdenkind. If they could do more than just hold her off—if they could kill her—they might return home with twice the expected reward. It seemed promising in theory, and even in practice. After all, together, the five of them managed to overwhelm her, landing several solid blows. Even though it didn’t show, the battle she’d fought earlier had clearly taken its toll, making victory seem within reach.

Or so Aurel thought. Midway through the battle, he felt a shift—like a tidal wave crashing down.

The previously slow, tired, and aloof Arianna became the opposite of all those things. Her punches, spells, and swords swings grew vicious. It took her less than twenty seconds to kill two of their men in horrifying ways, and a quarter of that time to lock onto another victim. As Artur tried to escape with his [Flight] skill, something seemed to slow him down, allowing her to grab his legs. She crawled up to his face and, with a vicious breath attack, froze and obliterated his head.

"Nooooo!"

"Fuck!" Aurel cursed.

"Bitch! Die!" Victor roared, unleashing a long-distance attack at her. Aurel followed him in that movement. But midway through launching his attack, Aurel realized where she drew that newfound energy and ferocity from—she'd leveled up. How? Simple. From the experience points gained by defeating Emperor Cleon. Cleon was dead. Even if she hadn't dealt the final blow, as the one who brought him to the edge of death, it made sense she was rewarded with the experience points, allowing her to level up.

Being well aware of what came with leveling up, Aurel finally understood the situation. But ultimately, what did that change for him? He still watched her casually take both their joint attacks, then charge at Victor. Brave as he was, Victor charged back at her with a knowing scream.

Aurel had heard many rumors about Arianna—as a Kingslayer, a Queen, an adventurer, and a bandit hunter, which she was most known for. Most of the rumors claimed she was a sorcerer and a mage, using curses or cryomancy to slay her enemies. But here, she used neither. With her bare hands, she split Victor—a man chunkier than she could ever be—in half. Then, as if to ensure he wouldn't recover, she froze the remains and shattered them into fine dust.

With Aurel being the last one standing of his fellow adepts, her eyes soon locked onto him, a maniacal look in her eyes and an evil smile on her mouth.

It was then, as their gazes met, that Claudiu, Michael, and Anton returned. That should've been good news, but unfortunately, they came back empty-handed when they were supposed to return with Cleon's corpse. Worse still, they were missing Anton, and Michael was bleeding profusely, missing an eye and an entire arm claw mark all over his body.

Upon arriving, the duo noticed the absence of the others supposed to be holding her back along with the Aurel. A strange standoff ensued as Arianna's gaze flicked back and forth between Aurel and the duo. The standoff broke when she unleashed two deadly moon-shaped spheres spiraling toward them. Quick to react, Claudiu teleported the duo to Aurel's side. They appeared right next to him—but unfortunately, Arianna appeared beside them as well, her arm wrapping around Claudiu's wrist. She whispered eerily, "Caught you."

The sight made Aurel recoil, unlike Michael, who tried to intervene. But Aurel knew better. There was no defeating that monster. The only way to survive was to teleport away—and only Claudiu could do that. Aurel's logic was simple: as long as there was distance between him and Arianna, Claudiu could teleport them to safety.

But Claudiu didn't. From the look on his face, it was clear he tried to teleport but failed. Arianna's next words confirmed she had done something.

"No more of that cowardly cockroach."

Michael tried to help Claudiu, swinging at Arianna, but she easily dodged his attack. Grabbing him violently by the throat, she hissed, "Got you too, old Dom—or whatever you are now."

Adjusting her grip to seize Claudiu by the throat as well, she turned both men helpless, their struggles futile, as she met Aurel's gaze with a taunting smirk. "Now then," she declared, her voice dripping with malice, "I have an important question for all three of you about your Masiach. I'm more than intrigued by what kind of man he is."

Aurel winced, realizing the grim reality—there was nothing he could do except bark futile words. He knew he couldn't defeat her. Worse still, without Claudiu's teleportation, there was no escape for him. He was trapped here with her. The chaotic dimension of the Void beyond the white barrier drove that realization deeper into his skin.

Then, an idea blossomed in his mind, desperate but their only chance. He shouted to his choked comrade, "Claudiu, collapse it! Let it collapse on us!"

Fortunately for them, she didn’t understand a word of what Aurel had ordered Claudiu—he'd spoken in a language only they knew. But she grasped that he was speaking to Claudiu, tightening her grip on his throat. Aurel feared she might knock him out or worse, but fortunately, Claudiu, still conscious, managed to follow the suggestion. He removed the white, tree-shaped sigil that stood between them and the chaotic maelstrom of the Void.

The result was instantaneous. Like a balloon popped deep underwater, the chaotic elements collapsed on them, hard. So hard Aurel felt himself nearly faint.

Barely clinging to consciousness, assaulted by the Void’s chaotic, oddly manifested dimension—simultaneously cold, scorching, and suffocating—Aurel watched his HP plummet rapidly toward zero. But then, beyond the sight of his interface, he saw Claudiu disappear from her grasp and reappear beside him, an arm slinging over Aurel’s shoulder. The moment their bodies touched, it felt like being pulled from scorching lava, oppressive deep sea pressure, and thick ice all at once. The relief was instantaneous, reflected both in his HP stabilizing and the easing of his body’s agony.

The Void was no place for normal humans. A regular person would be instantly obliterated upon being teleported there. Even a high-level individual like Aurel suffered dire consequences. Only people with the right skills—usually those with teleportation magic—could navigate this dimension without consequence. But even then, it required a high-level mastery of the skill. What Claudiu did was share his immunity to the Void and his ability to navigate it effortlessly.

"You alright?" Claudiu asked, his voice raspy.

"Yes, I’ll be fine," Aurel replied, glancing at their comrade who remained in Arianna's grasp. Aurel could tell from Claudiu’s trembling hand that he wanted to rush over to help. But failing to restrain Claudiu earlier, she now held tightly onto Michael with no intent to let go of her. There was no scenario where Aurel, despite his speed, could reach Michael without being grabbed by Arianna again like she did. It was too risky. As much as it tore Claudiu to watch this, he couldn’t bring himself to help. That hesitation stretched until the inevitable happened.

Michael had been already exhausted, missing limbs when Claudiu teleported him back here. When he faced the chaotic elements, it didn’t take long for his HP to drop to zero. The moment it did, his body was corroded by the Void’s chaotic elements. This seemed to surprise Arianna. She was thoroughly annoyed by what happened but didn’t dwell on it long. Her next focus was on them—but what could she do? Nothing.

The Void was a dimension of chaos where concepts like speed and direction didn’t function as they did in the real world. While she pushed herself toward them, she failed to actually close the distance, phasing in and out without moving in the direction she intended.

Out of a desire for retribution for their lost comrades, both Aurel and Claudiu were tempted to attack her during this confusion. But those impulses remained just that—impulses. For they both saw it. While that monster struggled with her movement, she was barely affected by the chaotic elements of the Void. Attempting anything rash would only lead to yet another early death.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Their gazes met, neither able to act against the other. In that moment, Aurel cursed her, wishing that while the Void elements didn’t seem to afflict her severely, they still would, even if at a slower pace. He prayed for the elements to kill her.

His wish went unanswered. The next instant, she manifested a large sigil—a tree that expanded rapidly, reaching them in an instant. Or rather, the spot they had previously occupied. Claudiu, in his true element within the Void, managed to teleport them away a fraction of a second before it reached them.

Having manifested the sigil like Claudiu had earlier—as a barrier to keep the chaotic elements at bay—Arianna hovered inside her barrier, no longer affected by either the elements or the directional distortions of the Void.

Clenching his fist until blood seeped from his knuckles, Aurel seethed with anger and frustration. He wanted nothing more than to unleash it all on her, but understanding that nothing they did would be productive, he told Claudiu, "Let's get out of here."

***

Without needing to be asked twice, Claudiu teleported them away. The duo reappeared in a different region of the Void. Immediately, upon realizing they hadn’t been followed, Aurel vented his rage.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck that bitch!"

“Six!” His voice ripped through the air, raw and shaking. Swinging at the Void's empty space, he stood there, blood-slicked and heaving, his breath ragged. Six men—his men—gone.

"Six men dead, just like that! For what?! For absolutely nothing!" His voice choked off, and for a moment, he just stood there, shoulders rising and falling like a caged animal.

In his mind, he hurled every slur, insult, and curse at her, hoping she would rot in this place. And she likely would—she didn’t seem to have any teleportation-related skills. Without the ability to tear through the countless dimensions separating the Void from the real world, she was trapped. He wished she would die a slow death, devoured by the chaotic elements of this place.

But then his mind reeled back to the sigil. That damn sigil. He had seen her manifest it, shielding herself from both the elements and the distortion of the Void. So no, she wouldn’t die that way.

Realistically, the only fate he could hope for was that she would suffer was from the eternity she would now spend here alone. It was a plausible fate. Very few ever acquired [Teleportation Magic], or its psionic variant [Teleportation], and even fewer leveled it high enough to break through this particular dimension. Even if someone did, the Void was impossibly vast. Even if they were to search for her, no one would find her here.

Aurel found solace in that thought. She was too strong to imagine being defeated, too resilient to simply die. But that sigil…

That sigil!

Only now, as he thought about it, did he realize how strange it was. In the heat of battle, he hadn’t even registered the sheer absurdity of it. Where did she get an ancestral tree? He knew she had returned to this continent with elven Monarchs as allies—had one of them lent it to her like one of their allies lent his sigil to Claudi?

Was that how she managed to defeat Cleon?!

He didn’t know. And that pissed him off.

He turned to Claudiu, who'd been oddly silent, to ask what had happened out there, even though he knew the answer would only sour his mood further. But as he turned, he found himself unable to ask the question. Blood was on Claudiu’s fingers. Looking up and down, Aurel searched for injuries on his comrade’s body and found nothing. It was only when Claudiu wiped his nose again that Aurel finally realized where the blood was coming from.

"You’re alright?"

"Yes," Claudiu answered, but confusion laced his words. He glanced at his stained fingers. "Blood... I keep wiping it, but it won't stop coming out."

A strange apprehension settled in Aurel’s chest. "Perhaps you got hit somewhere—"

But then he saw it, and he found himself unable to finish his sentence.

Something small. Something writhing.

It was just beneath Claudiu's skin, slithering up his cheek like a vein came to life. Aurel's stomach twisted.

“What?" Claudiu asked, sensing the sudden shift in Aurel’s expression. "What is it?"

Aurel didn’t answer. He couldn't. His breath caught in his throat as he watched again, just to be sure he wasn't imagining it.

Then he saw it move again.

This time, not one. Two.

Aurel's eyes locked onto the grotesque sight as the tiny forms twisted and jerked beneath Claudiu’s skin, wriggling just below the surface, distorting the flesh as they traveled upward.

Claudiu reached up, rubbing his face absently. “What—?”

And that’s when they surged.

A bulge formed at his throat around the red mark left by Arianna, the writhing motion accelerating. Aurel’s horror sharpened as he realized they were moving upward, fast, from Claudiu’s neck to his head.

Claudiu coughed—then choked. His breath hitched, his hands flying to his throat as if something was strangling him from the inside. His eyes widened in sheer panic. Then the coughing turned wet.

Instinctively, Aurel took a step back. His body moved before his mind could catch up, recoiling from the grotesque sight.

His thoughts scrambled for an explanation—what were those things? Parasites? The latter seemed disturbingly plausible. They looked too alive, too deliberate in their movements. But something about them sent a deeper, more primal horror clawing through his gut.

Because if these maggot-like creatures could survive here—in the Void—that meant one of two things.

Both possibilities sent ice down Aurel’s spine. His every instinct screamed at him to get away.

And yet—

He didn’t.

Because despite the revulsion, despite the creeping dread, he knew he had no right to let Claudiu die. Not him. Not when he was so important to the Masiach.

But how?

His mind scrambled for answers, and one came immediately. Identify the parasite.

And Aurel had the perfect skill for that.

Appraisal.

He activated it—

—and the world was gone.

The writhing parasites, the choking gasps—gone.

Instead, what he got was cold stone and the iron scent of blood.

Aurel’s breath hitched. His chest felt too tight, his body too small. His knees pressed into rough dirt, and somewhere ahead, a voice that wasn’t his spoke.

“Chief—Chief, what do we do—?”

Aurel froze.

He asked that question, but it hadn’t been his voice.

No—no, no, this was wrong. Something was wrong.

He tried to move—tried to speak—tried to think—

But then he saw her.

A woman, standing amidst the carnage.

Surrounded by bodies.

The blood pooling at her feet was thick enough to reflect her image—a figure too slight, too delicate, too human to match the sheer inhumanity of the slaughter around her.

Aurel’s heart pounded.

No.

Not his heart.

Lukas’s.

Because he realized that at that moment he wasn’t Aurel anymore. He was Lukas, a young bandit who, at the order of his chieftain, had used Appraisal on this woman who had invaded their camp and began slaughtering everyone she stumbled upon.

Successfully appraising her, Lukas checked her status.

Level 40.

He immediately understood that this woman was not something he or anyone in his village could handle, not even the chieftain and his captains.

And then—he noticed—she looked at him.

Her gaze was slow, detached. A gaze that saw no person. No life. Just something revolting in the way.

Aurel—no, Lukas—felt his body lock. His throat closed, his breath turned to ice. He had to move. He had to run.

"Run—run—run!" He screamed at himself, but his legs wouldn’t work. "Move, goddamn it!"

He hit the ground hard. Scrambled backward, clawing at the dirt with fingers that shook too much to be of any use.

The Chief was dead. The others were dead.

And she—she was coming for him. Not rushing. Not running. Just walking. Because she already knew.

He wasn’t getting away.

She reached him in seconds. Caught his jaw between cold, unshaking fingers. Tilted his head back. And whispered— “Has no one ever taught you, little bandit?” Her thumbs pressed into his eyes. “That there is nothing more defiling for a young lady than being appraised like you just did me.”

Pain.

Agony.

Lukas screamed. Aurel also screamed. He thrashed, hands flying to his face, to his eyes, to her hands—to stop her from stirring them in his eye sockets. But there was nothing there. No blood. No torn flesh.

His eyes were—intact.

He gasped, chest heaving, vision swimming as the memory ripped itself apart around him.

Not real.

It wasn’t real.

It took him a moment to understand.

To realize who he was. Aurel, the right hand of the Masiach.

Where he was. The Void.

That the searing agony in his skull wasn’t his own.

That the burned village, the screams, the charred flesh, the suffocating horror—

Had belonged to someone else.

To a young bandit.

Lukas.

A memory—harvested. And then grafted onto him, making him experience it as the present, as reality.

Aurel’s breath stuttered. His hands trembled against his face, shoulders shaking as he finally, finally regained control of his body.

It was over.

It was—

Another memory surged forward.

No.

No, no, no—

Aurel barely had time to gasp before it swallowed him whole again.

The scenery changed, bringing him to cold, mountainous regions, verdant valleys, and fire-engulfed villages, then moments later, the owner of the memories was being brutally tortured and broken before being killed by her. And he had to live through each one of them.