Fallen Chronicles

Only two beings in the Great Hall could still move.

One was the Empress, who slowly descended from her throne.

The other was the Lizard soldier, who had attempted to assassinate her.

Deep down, the Lizardman knew it was impossible to succeed. He was driven by a moment of rage, fueled by the hatred shared by all demi-humans towards the Empress, who seemed indifferent to the plight of their race and even sided with humans against her own kind.

"General Long, give me your sword."

As Empress Nova spoke, she effortlessly took General Long 's powerful 'Relic' sword and, to everyone's surprise, tossed it to the Lizardman lying on the ground. Then, she drew a simple iron sword from one of the Dragon Gate soldiers, a common weapon with no special features.

"Show me your resolve"

With these few words, Nova, in her military red dress, assumed a serious combat stance. She didn't use any of her insane powers or skills and even neutralized the oppressive aura for the Lizardman's benefit.

"Ahhhh…"

Roaring, the Lizard-man, momentarily forgetting his fear of the Empress, viewed the dragon woman before him as an enemy. He struggled to wield General Long 's 'Relic' sword and charged towards Nova.

Bang!*

Predictably, even with just an iron sword and without using any of her power, Nova effortlessly defeated the Lizard-man in less than five moves, sending him flying with sword and all.

The battle was not over; it was just the beginning.

"Get up. Fight." Nova uttered these three words to the fallen demi-human.

These words resonated deeply with her.

Roaring again, the Lizard-man charged again, only to be defeated more quickly than before, this time with a deep gash left by Nova's sword, blood streaming.

"Get up. Fight."

Bang!*

"Get up. Fight."

Bang!*

To the civilian onlookers, it seemed as if the Empress was repeatedly forcing the clearly exhausted Lizardman to fight, almost as if she were humiliating or torturing him.

However, General Long, a true warrior, remained silent and observant.

He knew the Empress had no intention of humiliation. With each of the Lizard-man's attacks, even as he grew increasingly unsteady and struggled to grip his sword, Nova maintained a standard combat stance, treating each encounter with utmost seriousness.

Indeed, General Long didn't understand why the Empress was doing this. Perhaps only Empress Nova knew the reason in her heart. In her eyes, the Lizard-man before her was no longer just a member of his race; 'he was a reflection of her past self'.

A similar scene from her past played in her mind. The person then in her position, who had coldly and sternly repeated those three words "Get up. Fight." to her, was...

...the figure shrouded in an 'ashen cloak', who had thrown a sword to a dragon woman at the bottom of a pit, her neck bound by a slave collar, her body covered in wounds.

Nova, enduring all sorts of fatigue and pain, once again gripped the hilt of the sword, following the orders of her master, the one who had bought her from the "slave gladiator arena" – Emperor Ashen.

She was in a monster lair, constantly besieged by waves of Miasma monsters coming from all directions. The only thing required of her by her Lord was to fight and keep fighting.

She slew monster after monster with her sword, but they seemed endless, like a bottomless pit. Gradually, her strength waned; she started getting injured, pierced by spikes, and slashed by scythes.

She didn't know how many times she had fallen, her body drenched in blood.

She was exhausted.

Completely worn out.

Yet every time she thought of giving up, pleading to Her master to end the training, Nova always received the same response.

"Get up. Fight."

Nova knew her master was serious. If she gave up fighting, he wouldn't come to save her. What awaited her was being overwhelmed by the tide of Tainted monsters, being devoured limb by limb to death.

She swung her sword.

And swung it again.

Even if her lungs felt as if they were being seared by hot coals, and her limbs as heavy as if filled with lead, she clenched her teeth, with only one thought in her mind.

"Get up. Fight."

She refused to submit, filled with anger toward her master Ashen. She was determined to survive this ordeal, to confront and question her master about this torment, to unleash her fury on the figure who only dared to hide beneath the cloak.

Her desire to survive became her driving force. The dragon blood within her was fully activated, unlocking her latent potential in this life-and-death struggle. A new strength began to flow through her, rejuvenating her, igniting the dragon blood within.

After awakening her new power, Nova succeeded, enduring until no more monsters emerged from the lair. Collapsing from exhaustion, she vividly remembered that moment, even after five hundred years. Instead of falling to the ground, she was caught by a man.

That moment felt warmer and more comforting than anything she had ever known.

"You've worked hard, Nova. And... congratulations."

"It was... so hard, My Lord."

"You must be starving."

"Very hungry…"

"Let's go home then. Zero should have dinner ready, and Suthia will heal your wounds. For now, rest here with me for a while."

Nova wasn't sure if the conversation above was real or a hallucination as her consciousness blurred – After all, her master had always said very few words, very few.

But one thing Nova was sure of: her master held her very tightly in that moment.

It was through these life-and-death struggles, constant strife, and rebellion, orchestrated her master, that Nova awakened her new skill and achieved her current status. She became one of "them" worthy of standing beside her great master.

..

…..

"Get up. Fight."

Returning from her distant yet profound memories, Nova was about to speak to the Lizardman again when she noticed he was lifeless, motionless on the ground. The 'Relic' sword had failed to respond to the Lizardman's call.

'Why?'

'Why can't anyone be awakened?'

'Isn't it enough to be forced? Is their inner struggle and desire to survive not enough?'

 'Or Was it my method of copying My Lord's methods?'

A harsh environment was supposed to unleash potential, and the law of the jungle to bring forth true strength. Sacrificing the majority to nurture a select few was the correct way. After all, it was how Emperor Ashen had created "them"

And it was "them," along with their Lord, who ended the source of Tainted Miasma pollution and saved the world.

Nova looked at the lifeless Lizard-man on the ground, her eyes, which had wavered momentarily, returning to their initial cold.

Of course.

As Nova's purple eyes shifted towards Charl, Charl's heart skipped a beat, nearly dropping to his knees in fear and confession.

But Charl's position wasn't solely due to his wickedness; it was his capability that made him the most formidable among the ministers. He was someone who would abandon everything for power and survival.

"Despicable creature, conspiring with demi-humans to defame the loyal General Long in front of the Empress. You deserve death, utterly unforgivable!"

Before his son Tian could even comprehend what was happening, Charl's slap struck him, and in the next moment, Tian's head burst like a smashed watermelon.

After doing this, Charl prostrated himself in abject humility and fear, inflicting numerous punishments upon himself and begging the Empress for forgiveness.

Nova watched this scene with cold indifference.

But her gaze soon shifted, passing through the Dragon Hall and looking towards the Dragon Nation she had built, and perhaps even beyond to something far away.

Without a word, Nova turned and left the Dragon Hall, returning to her imperial palace, leaving behind a hall full of trembling ministers, still shocked by the series of events, the body of the Lizard-man, and Charl's decapitated son.

However, it seemed Nova's troubling night was not yet over.

Upon returning to her chamber, she found an unexpected figure waiting, as if she had been there for some time.

"It's been a long time,"

"Sister Nova."

The pink-haired succubus, lounging on the Empress's bed with her legs crossed, spoke casually.

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