Do I look like her?

Steam still clung to the air as Valeria stepped out of the bath, wrapping a towel snugly around her body. She caught her reflection in the mirror, the condensation on the glass leaving her image blurred and fractured. For a moment, she thought it might be better that way.

She leaned closer, wiping the mirror with her hand. Her face stared back pale, with faint dark circles under her eyes, her black hair slicked back from the bath. She touched her cheek, her fingers tracing the sharp lines of her jaw.

Do I look like her?

The question chilled her. The tyrant Empress Valeria had been many things ruthless, cruel, unyielding. Valeria's memories of her past self the CEO were filled with calculated decisions and cold ambition, but never outright malice. Yet today, in that council room, she had felt something different, something darker.

The images of the two Valerias began to blur in her mind: one, a tyrant draped in shadows, the other, a woman who had built her life on discipline and intellect. Her reflection shifted, morphing between the two as her thoughts spiraled.

"No," she whispered, her voice shaking. She splashed water onto her face, the cold shock pulling her back into the present. She gripped the edge of the sink, her knuckles white. "I am not her. I won't be her."

With a deep breath, she pushed herself upright and stepped out of the bathroom.

On the bed lay another prepared outfit, tailored with precision and care. The clothing was masculine, as she had grown accustomed to, but elegant. A high-collared black coat with silver embroidery along the sleeves and hem rested atop crisp white trousers. The buttons were polished obsidian, catching the light like small onyx gems. A leather belt with a silver clasp completed the ensemble, along with tall black boots that gleamed with a mirror finish.

Valeria dressed quickly, feeling more herself as she slipped into the sharp lines of the outfit. The heavy fabric and structured fit grounded her, serving as armor against the world she now had to face.

She stepped out of her chambers, finding Arlen waiting with his usual composed smile.

"Your Majesty," he began, his tone businesslike. "The next item on your schedule is a visit to the military training grounds. As you know, your weekly presence is expected to inspire the troops and evaluate their progress."

Valeria nodded, grateful for the clear task ahead. "Let's go."

The training grounds sprawled across a vast expanse of land near the castle. Rolling fields of dry grass had been carved into organized sections: an arena for sparring, rows of dummies for precision training, and an obstacle course that twisted and turned with cruel ingenuity. Watchtowers stood at the edges, manned by archers who scanned the horizon for any sign of trouble.

Two of the kingdom's four S-rank generals were present, their towering figures impossible to miss.

The first was General Thalric, a mountain of a man whose presence commanded attention. His arms were crossed, revealing muscles that strained against his armor. His bald head gleamed in the sunlight, and a jagged scar ran down his left cheek, a mark of his countless battles. His magic, Earth Manipulation, made him a defensive powerhouse, capable of raising impenetrable stone walls and crushing his enemies with devastating tremors.

Beside him stood General Lysara, her slender frame deceptive in its strength. Her sharp eyes and platinum-blonde hair gave her an ethereal appearance, but the twin daggers at her sides hinted at her lethal nature. She was a master of Wind Magic, using speed and precision to overwhelm her opponents. She was as graceful as she was deadly.

The other two generals, Valeria knew, were leading campaigns on the kingdom's borders. Their absence was expected but noted.

As Valeria and Arlen approached, the soldiers halted their activities and turned toward her, saluting in unison. Their armor clinked as they stood at attention, their faces a mix of awe and trepidation.

"Continue your training," Valeria said, her tone calm but authoritative.

The soldiers returned to their drills without hesitation.

The training was methodical and intense. Rows of archers practiced hitting moving targets, their arrows flying with precision. Swordsmen engaged in sparring matches, their strikes ringing out as steel met steel. In the obstacle course, recruits hauled heavy logs, crawled under barbed wire, and scaled walls, their determination etched into their faces.

Valeria watched in silence, her sharp eyes taking in every detail. She noted the discipline, the form, the strength of the soldiers under her command. This was an army built for conquest, and it was clear why Valeria's kingdom had remained dominant.

As the drills continued, General Lysara approached her, bowing slightly. "Your Majesty," she said, her voice smooth but edged with respect. "It is rare to see you here."

Valeria raised an eyebrow. "I'm here every week."

"Indeed," Lysara replied with a small smile. "But observing and participating are two different things."

Valeria tilted her head, unsure of where this was going.

"I was wondering," Lysara continued, her gaze unwavering. "Would you care to spar with me? The troops would benefit from seeing their leader's strength firsthand."

Valeria blinked, her expression neutral, though her mind raced. Sparring? Against Lysara? The idea was daunting, but refusing could be seen as weakness.

"Interesting," Valeria said, her voice steady. "Let's see if your reputation is deserved."

Lysara's smile widened, a spark of excitement in her eyes. "I look forward to it, Your Majesty."

The soldiers stopped their drills, their attention shifting to the impending match. Whispers spread through the ranks, anticipation thick in the air.

Valeria stepped forward, her heart pounding in her chest. This would not be an easy battle, but she had no choice.