Glance

I was not a good person. Never had been. I was selfish, ruthless, and unapologetic. From the moment I clawed my way through the ranks of the Gloomtaur's Shadow Army, I had one goal—wipe out the rest of the surviving Blinded.

When I was nine, they came. The Blinded—Rulers of the Sunbolt Mountains—descended upon our underground city like shadows of death. They spared no one. The old, the weak, the women, the children—none of them mattered. Blood painted the walls, screams rang through the tunnels, and life was torn apart in mere moments.

I only survived because of my father. We had been hiding in a small room, barely lit by the flickering glow of a dying lantern. He shoved me into a wooden closet, his breath ragged, his hands trembling. I heard the footsteps before I saw them. Heavy boots, metal scraping against stone. 

Then—impact. A blade drove through him, his body jerking before he collapsed onto the closet, his weight crushing me beneath him. Blood seeped through my clothes, warm, sticky. His face turned toward mine, lips quivering, his final breath barely more than a whisper.

"Remember, Mabbel… The gods are good, they will protect you. Demons are evil, they will eradicate you… and there is no demon more threatening than the ones who kill you without even giving you a glance…"

Then, silence.

His body grew cold on top of me, his blood soaking me in death. But I didn't cry. I didn't tremble.

I listened.

I listened to them tear through our home, slaughtering my people without hesitation. I listened as they laughed, as they mocked the fallen. And when they finally left, leaving behind only ruins and corpses—I felt nothing but rage.

Rage so deep, so consuming, that it became the only thing keeping me alive.

I trained. I fought. I lost, over and over again, but I never stopped. I tempered my rage, and shaped it into a weapon sharper than any blade. I used it, honed it, and when the time came, I unleashed it upon my enemies. It earned me a name—"The Most Brutal Leader in Gloomtonian History."

But brutality alone does not win wars. Only my underlings knew the truth—I was careful. I planned, calculated, analyzed. I understood my limits and how to twist every advantage in my favor. But when everything aligned? When the moment was right? It was nothing but a massacre. Corpses reduced to pulp.

Soon, I grew to the point where killing those Blinded bastards was within reach.

Through blood and strategy, I learned everything about them. Their bases, their leader, their strength. I did not move until I was sure. Until I was strong enough to take one hundred of my best warriors and lead them against one thousand of the Blinded.

And we won.

With their fall, the Sunbolt Mountains were ours. We ruled. We were the strongest.

Or so I thought.

We relocated, moving deeper into the mountains, securing ourselves in the Cragstone Outpost—a place hidden by natural barriers, protected by monsters, cloaked in magic. No one should have been able to find us. No one should have been able to reach us.

And yet… one day, a single man appeared.

A Blinded.

I had hunted them to extinction. I was sure of it. But I had missed one.

I was wary, careful. I had seen what they were capable of. But it didn't matter.

That day, four-hundred and fifty-seven Gloomtaurs were slaughtered.

The greatest tragedy since I had taken command.

…

(Present Day)

(Mabbel POV)

"Everybody has left their children at home, correct!?" My voice rang out, bouncing against the rough stone walls of our underground city.

"Yes!"

The response came in unison, a little over five hundred voices strong. A chorus of discipline. A reminder of what we had built.

"Everybody has left the elderly at home, correct!?"

"Yes!"

I let out a slow breath, my gaze sweeping over them. Hardened faces, scarred skin, eyes filled with years of suffering and survival. Every single one of them had lost something—someone—to war. And yet, they were still here. Because I was still here. Because we had fought and bled together. Because we refused to kneel.

Then, a voice shattered the order like a blade through glass.

"WHY DO WE HAVE TO DO THIS? WHAT IS HAPPENING!?"

A ripple of unease spread through the gathered warriors. Then came another voice.

"Where are we going!?"

"What is happening, Lady Mabbel!?"

"We deserve to know!"

The murmurs turned to shouts, their emotions breaking free in a tide of uncertainty and frustration.

"QUIET!" I snapped, but my words barely cut through the rising clamor.

"This is our home!"

"You can't just order us around without reason!"

"Are we running away!?"

Their anger boiled over, voices overlapping, drowning each other out in a storm of defiance. The weight of it pressed against my skull, clawed at my patience, squeezed at my ribs. Then—

"I'M TRYING TO PROTECT ALL OF YOU FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

The words burst out of me like a whip crack.

Silence crashed down over them.

I sucked in a sharp breath, my hands clenched so tightly that my nails dug into my palms. "FUCK! Do you think I want to do this!?" My voice was raw, my throat burned. "If we don't, all of us will die! Including the children! Including the elderly! I don't want any of my people to die again!"

The anger in their eyes flickered, doused by something heavier. Grief. Understanding.

I inhaled deeply, steadying my breath.

"Then let's go. Everybody stay near! If any of you break off—I'm not gonna go looking for you!"

No more arguments. No more hesitations.

I turned and leapt down from the podium, my boots slamming against the stone, and I took off. Behind me, five hundred warriors followed, their steps falling into perfect rhythm.

We reached the underground prairie. One by one, the ground beneath us trembled, then lifted, stone and dirt shifting as magic wove through the air. And just like that, the world above split open.

The night sky stretched wide. A cacophony of stars shimmered, bright and endless, as if welcoming us back. For a brief moment, I saw the awe in my people's eyes. Some of them hadn't seen the outside world in years.

But we didn't have time to admire it.

We melted into the trees, vanishing into the darkness, the forest wrapping around us like a cloak. And in the distance, past the tangled brush and the morning mist, stood Ophelia's camp.

And there she was…

She stood atop a watchtower.

The first light of dawn kissed her form, casting long shadows as she gazed at us. Her silver eyes gleamed, cold and unreadable, a golden aura flickering around her like a divine flame.

A shiver curled down my spine.

I forced my voice steady. "We're here. What do you want?"

Ophelia raised a hand, her movement slow, careful. She gestured for me to follow.

I grit my teeth. She had me at her beck and call. The shame burned deep, clawing at my pride, but there was no time for that. I turned back, signaling for my people to stay hidden. Then, I stepped forward, leaving the cover of the forest and walking through the now-open gates.

I felt them.

The Holy Knights. Their gazes burned into my skin, some filled with anger, others with raw hatred.

Then I saw him.

Wony. 

Tied to a post at the far end of the camp. His head hung low, his dark brown hair matted with sweat and blood. His arms were bound tight, his chest barely rising with each shallow breath.

But he was alive.

I had left him to die, yet… somehow… for some reason… a breath of relief slipped past my lips.

Then—Ophelia moved.

I followed her into her cart.

This time, there were no knights standing guard inside. No weapons drawn. Just her. And me.

She sat across from me, legs crossed, arms folded, her chin tilted slightly upward. The golden aura still clung to her, faint but present, a constant, suffocating weight. Her silver eyes locked onto mine, and it felt as though I had already lost before the conversation had even begun.

The silence stretched.

Something about the way she looked at me—through me—made my skin prickle. I swallowed the unease down.

"Are you a royal?" The question came out before I could stop it. "I've heard rumors that the Royals of the Holy Empire can wield a golden aura like that."

She didn't answer.

Her gaze drifted to the ceiling, lost in thought, as if my question wasn't even worth acknowledging.

Seconds passed.

The silence thickened, pressing against my ribs, winding around my throat like a slow-growing vine.

I gritted my teeth. "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM US!?" The words burst out of me, sharp and desperate. "We'll escort you through the forest for free if that's what you want!"

Her gaze finally lowered back to me.

But something had changed.

Her eyes weren't just cold anymore.

They consumed.

It wasn't just the stare of a warrior. It wasn't even the stare of a predator. It was something far worse. It was something that made my body lock up, that made my pulse hammer in my ears.

My breath hitched.

I had never talked to or even gotten a glimpse of the Emperor before, but I knew that if I were to ever meet him, this is what it would be like. Every single twitch of Ophelia's expression, the slow blink of her eyes, made it feel like I had to submit to her.

This was authority. True, absolute authority.

My breath hitched. My head dipped slightly before I even realized it, my instincts acting before my mind could resist.

Ophelia tilted her head slightly. "What makes you so nervous?"

She wasn't mocking me.

She was examining me.

Picking me apart.

I swallowed thickly. "L-Look… I'm sorry for ever trying to trick you, Miss. I—I was just thinking of my own desires, b-but, I'm sorry. I won't ever get near you again."

She clicked her tongue. Shook her head.

"Lies."

I flinched. "I-I'm not—"

"Lies."

The word cut through me like a knife through flesh.

Something twisted inside my head.

A foreign, wrong sensation slithered through my thoughts, bending them, warping them.

Was I lying? No, I—

But—

Did I—

Would I—

I was lying.

I gripped my knees, my breathing ragged. What was this? What the fuck was happening to me?

Then—Ophelia spoke again.

"Do…"

Her eyes drifted upward, thoughtful, as if she was contemplating something far removed from this conversation.

A pit formed in my stomach.

"...you want a chance at killing the other Bandit Kings?"

The answer left me before I could even think.

"Y-Yes."

The second it slipped out, my mouth clamped shut.

My father's words echoed in my skull.

"There is no demon more threatening than the ones who kill you without even giving you a glance."

And in that moment, I knew.

It wasn't my life that had been taken without a glance.

It was something else.

Something I would never get back.

My head lowered fully, my body moving before my mind could catch up.

And Ophelia?

She simply watched, small grin stretching across her lips.