Chapter 61: The Mistress of Destruction

My stale chuckle echoed, an eerie contrast to the pervading silence filling the room. I looked around and saw their expressions shifting into caution. Their pupils narrowed, pulling out weapons they hid from their thick clothes. With no hesitation, the crowd pointed the tips and edges against me. Sharp weapons of all kinds. Their bloodlust unsheathed, as they glared at me like I was a monster.

Even Emma was no exception. Her scarlet tail spoofed out as she glared. Crimson fog enshrouding her along with the set of black daggers in her hands. She appeared to have involuntarily released her crimson fog.

I turned and saw Hild and Astolfo looking confused. Still, they followed. A giant jet-black blade appeared on the half-ogre’s hand while the giant priest had already shuffled towards the rear, and his muscled body shone with a flickering golden hue.

Mystified and confused, I looked around me as my mind turned fuzzy, slowly drifting into a half-awake state with memories of Victoria continuously passing through my eyes. I shook my head, but it had only worsened the strange feeling.

“Who are you?” Emma stepped forwards, eyeing me with caution I had never seen before. Her pupils narrowed like that of a feline on the hunt. She stared at me like I was a fierce beast. A deadly threat.

Threat? Me? But I am not. I trust I am not.

“Stand down.” Words unconsciously flowed out of my mouth. It was soft but carried depth akin to a mesmerizing spell. Carried behind the mellow voice was authority. “Sleep and dream.”

But it wasn’t me. What’s happening?

Sweat trickled from the villager’s brows as they forced their eyes wide open. However, the elders soon fainted on the spot, falling to the ground one by one.

Emma, Astolfo, and Hild’s eyes turned bloodshot, blood trickling on their lips as they bit their lips to stay awake. This is bad.

“Sleep, I won’t do anything,” I said, unconsciously. Astolfo slid down, falling unconscious, followed by his wife, Hild. Still, Emma remained.

I slowly forced myself out of my seat. Moving my body felt like I was lifting heavy lead. One thought immediately entered my mind. I must get out of here.

There was something wrong with me. I clutched my chest, glancing at the remains of the royal letter. I never thought I’d get affected like this. No, rather than me. It was the one hiding within me. Victoria.

I wasn’t the real Victoria, but I still felt upset. A cocktail of negative emotions slowly drowning me. Like a broken doll which joints were loose, I trudged towards the door. Out of everyone’s sight.

“I’ll need some fresh air, sorry.” I stared at Emma, pushing out a few words with all of my strength. “P-Please don’t look for me at all cost.” It was a sorry excuse to keep them safe, but I hoped it would make do.

“V-Victoria?” The old catkin paled, and there was a mixture of horror and concern intertwining within her aged eyes. “W-What’s happening? D-Did the witch also curse you?

She reached out her hands, but I couldn’t take her hand. Not now.

“No.” I stopped Emma as the headache worsened. “But don’t touch me. I-t’s dangerous. You can’t… for now.”

I shook my head and saw a vision. A violet-haired lady sitting inside the jail with almost all her senses cut off battered me. A dark bundle of negativity, not even a sense of hope in her eyes.

Then, suddenly, an image of my old self, Leonora, appeared. It was Antarctica, and I was a mess. With pale freezing lips and drowsy tired eyes, I stared at the heavenly pastels above the sky flashed. I watched my lips arching into a goofy smile, putting my strength into my arms, pushing it against the aurora as if I was capturing it by hand.

I felt warmth.

Victoria. To Victoria. I was as the light. A glint of hope. Her last struggle.

“What do I look like right now?” I asked, forcing myself to smile.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“You look very sad,” Emma said and paused. Her eyelids slowly slid down. The dagger slipped out of her hands. “You’re crying, but w-why?”

‘Crying, huh?’ My chest tightened.

After hearing her reply, I ignored her and strode, wobbling into the verdant grasslands. From time to time, I would slip, like a drunk. Hard to breathe was an understatement. I had myself drowning in someone else cup of wrath. I couldn’t control it, nor could she.

Wrath poured out from the deepest recesses of our soul. And I had a thought. She had to let it all out.

Thus, I had made a haphazard decision. To let my benefactor take full control of her body, I silently allowed myself to turn into a puppet, returning what was rightfully hers for a moment.

After letting her take over, a mysterious sensation bubbled, regurgitating as it took us piece by piece. Then I turned into a watcher. An audience. And ‘I’ turned into ‘we’.

Ding! [The Dreaming Soul has awakened from its deep slumber.]

Victoria pushed herself, striding across the vibrant meadows, until we reached the muddy lands, towards the stony cliff. Even when our feet turned into a bloodied mess, she held on, pursued the unending roads, as if venting for her inadequacies, and of her so-called father, the king. Childish venting and she seemed to understand her actions weren’t smart, but so what?

I fully understood that she had already awakened. The true Victoria had opened her eyes with the letter of her father as the trigger.

His father, the king, was stupid and selfish. Thus, she hated him, but still cared for him. Disgusted, but still believe him. Victoria was full of contradiction. I realized she was indeed still a child. Like a rebelling teenager.

In the end, I watched as she punished herself instead of others. If only I got better magic. This wouldn’t happen. If only I didn’t talk to the young man that day. He will still be alive.

She blamed herself. She was soft-hearted but was also naïve. She was me, and I understood her better than anyone. And perhaps even better than herself.

Then she cut me off, ignoring all my pleas for her to stop. Giving up, I let her do as she wishes. Fully taking control since she mustn’t end up bottled again.

The real Victoria marched across the wide grassland with no destination in mind. She wanted to kill herself, so I dabbled a little to stop her. I guided the two confused blobs to stop her from doing any self-harm, especially Maggie, who uttered a few creepy words.

Why do you want to meet my mom so badly? I can help? The tumultuous little-honey suckle pop whom I once thought was pure and innocent had one hell of a dark character. And as for the usually boisterous and chest-puffed Tempest blob, he did all he could to stop the real Victoria from killing our body. It seemed he didn’t want to meet Maggie’s mom; he wasn’t willing to take chances.

Thankfully, Victoria gave up. Alistair and I had also stopped Maggie from doing anything stupid.

Still, it seemed Victoria couldn’t listen to my discussion with the wind spirits. Are they only contracted to my soul, and not hers?

The twilight peeked, but we still pressed on, our trembling legs too numbed by pain continued forth. Our tired feet only ended their journey to the unknown as we reached an enormous cliff that faced the ocean.

We trudged against the icy wind, onwards to the edge of the cliff. In the solace of silence, we watched the twilight and stood at the tip of the cliff until the night had come. The three moons shone above, greeting us. The wide-open seas below reflected the starry skies like pure, unstained mirrors.

Releasing all the pent-up emotions from our chest, we unconsciously let out emotions. We screamed. Unbridled. Unbottled. My eyes blurred as a stream of tears suddenly washed over my eyes. My hair unbundled itself as it cascaded and waltzed along with the strong winds.

Seconds, minutes, and hours passed. Slowly, but surely, we started losing strength, and the screams shifted into tired sobs. We fell on our feet, covering our face, hiding from the peeking three moons.

“Fate.” It wasn’t from me, but a mocking from the real Victoria.

Is this the real Victoria’s emotions? I didn’t know when, but our hair slowly returned to its original lilac colors. We took a deep breath.

“Lady Leonora,” our mouth opened as we stared at the oceans with empty eyes. “How can I destroy this world?”

Ding!

[Gaia, the Goddess of Plagues, Mischief, and Destruction has heard your pain and relishes it. Oh, you sleeping magus whose dreams never end. She enjoys your fury and would grant your wish for chaos and ruin. You who seek destruction shall find its joy like its apostle. Rejoice, awaken one! Welcome, child of destruction. Rejoice and receive the first of thy gift, oh mortal ones whose fate had twisted each other’s destiny.]

Gaia’s First Gift

[Mistress of Destruction] - Gaia has answered your wish. You’re now gifted with her abilities, reciprocating your feats for attracting more mortal followers for her. She tailored-made it for her best follower. Enjoy <3. Descent (Active) The clothe yourself with her divinity and see why destruction brings Gaia so much joy. Gaia’s Apostle: (Passive) All your abilities that trigger destruction now have 30% more power.

Do you want to the fun of destruction and (Descent)? [Yes/No]

“…”

Bullshit.

Time halted for us. Weird, but I soon discovered that Victoria could also see the notifications. I felt it. The jerk in her soul as we stared at the flickering letters. Our finger even moved and we tried to touch it.

I thought I had already brought everything under control. But I was dead wrong. I choked and felt another round of fury rising from within, but this time, it was from me.

Stop it, Victoria. Calm down. Calm down. That won’t be good. Don’t get bated. She’s someone bad. Destruction, mischief, and plague ain’t coming from someone good-hearted. She’s fucking up to mischief! Listen! Hey! She’s tempting you, Victoria!

I wrestled against her for control, putting my best to stop her from unleashing something we’d soon both regret.

Yet, I failed.

Our lips shook. Then it uttered.

“Yes.”