A Mother’s Priorities

Martin gazed down at the ruins beneath him.

Over the past few days, he had reduced the entire Windwalker City to rubble, slaughtering countless people. He had hunted down the thief who had robbed his shop, the man who had ruined his life, and yet, he still felt empty.

"No… now that I think about it, the real culprits were the Bank of Bloodstone!" His crimson eyes burned with hatred. "They were the ones who killed my family! I'll erase the entire Bloodstone kingdom from existence!"

At this moment, Martin was no longer human, not in appearance, not in soul. A pair of tattered, jet-black wings stretched over a hundred feet behind him. His body, now a towering twenty feet tall, was covered in grotesque flesh, his jagged fangs glistening under the sun. His presence reeked of death, his voice guttural, inhuman.

Despite his terrifying form, his aura was still only at the Legendary rank - far from the realm of Mythic beings. But as a mortal-turned-demon, Martin knew nothing of power rankings.

His thought process was straightforward: If he could bring an entire city to ruin, then the Bank of Bloodstone was nothing more than a pile of kindling waiting to be burned.

With a single beat of his wings, he ascended into the clear skies, soaring toward the general direction where he believed Bloodstone City lay.

Of course, as a demon with a shattered mind and crippled intelligence, his journey would not be swift. Finding the city might take him time, but that hardly mattered. Any unfortunate soul who crossed his path would have only one thing to curse -

Their own wretched luck.

...

A woman with fiery red hair and piercing green eyes lay hidden beneath a mountain of corpses.

She was alive - unharmed.

But she was terrified.

Not long ago, a monster had descended upon the city, slaughtering everything in sight. It hunted relentlessly, attacking anything that moved.

And as if that wasn't horrifying enough, a thick, unnatural black fog had surrounded the entire city, sealing it off completely. No one could take more than two steps beyond its edge. It wasn't poisonous. It didn't burn or corrode. It simply blocked the way- impervious to blades, magic, or sheer force.

Trapped, Lyria did the only thing she could to survive - she hid beneath the mountain of corpses.

Fortunately for her, the creature was stupid. It had not thought to check beneath the dead. And so, she waited - motionless in the stifling, blood-soaked darkness.

She didn't dare move.

She didn't dare breathe too loudly.

All she could do was endure and hope.

The Bloodstone Kingdom had to send reinforcements. They couldn't possibly ignore a monster of this scale. If left unchecked, it wouldn't just destroy this city - it would annihilate the entire kingdom.

But Lyria knew one thing for sure. She wouldn't be the one to stop it.

Even as a Silver-rank knight, she had no chance against such a being. Facing it would be suicide. All she could do was rely on her superior physique, enduring hunger and thirst for as long as necessary under this pile of corpses.

Weeks, if need be.

It would be agonizing. It would push her body to its limits. But it was still better than dying.

Still better than facing that thing.

...

Trapped beneath a mountain of corpses, time blurred into an unending nightmare. The stench of rotting flesh had grown unbearable, thick and suffocating. Worms and insects wriggled through the decaying bodies around her, brushing against her skin. If she stayed here any longer, she wouldn't die - but it would be a fate close to hell itself.

Initially, she hadn't planned on leaving for at least a week, but now, she had changed her mind.

She had to get out.

"I can't stay here any longer!" she thought.

Gritting her teeth, she began to slowly, carefully wriggle her way out of the corpse pile. Every movement sent a fresh wave of decay into her lungs, but she endured. Inch by inch, she crawled to freedom.

Finally, she emerged.

Sucking a breath in, she scanned the surroundings. The city - once bustling and full of life - was no more. Windwalker City had been flattened. Not a single structure remained standing.

But the dark fog was gone.

Nothing prevented her from escaping now.

Not wasting another second, she turned and ran.

As she sped through the wasteland of ruin, her mind raced with a sinking realization.

"This time… our family may truly face destruction."

The Windwalker family had never been powerful. They were a small noble house with only one marquis and a single count. With Marquis Alaric Windwalker dead and Windwalker City annihilated, the strongest remaining stronghold was now her city—Eagle's Perch.

But Eagle's Perch was far too small to serve as the seat of a marquis.

It was only a matter of time before the kingdom forced them to rejoin the Darkwind family. The once-independent Windwalker family was now teetering on the edge of being swallowed whole.

"Maybe I'm being too optimistic…"

A shudder ran down her spine as she remembered the overwhelming presence of the demon. That aura… that power.

Could even the king himself stand against it?

No.

"Is this the end of Silverflower Island?"

Everything had fallen apart so quickly. First, Marquis Alaric and his son Edric were murdered by unknown assassins. Then, Windwalker City was wiped from existence. Now, the entire island was in danger of being erased from history.

For the first time, Lyria stopped thinking about her family's survival.

Instead, she asked herself the only question that truly mattered.

"How do I save myself?"

Because if Silverflower Island was doomed…

Then nothing else mattered.

With Edric - her son, the one she had suspected of possessing a Mythic talent - gone, Lyria no longer had lingering worries about her other children.

She loved them, yes, but her own survival came first.

If she could save them, she would. If not… their fate was in their own hands.

She had always been this way. Her love was real, but it had limits. She was not the kind of mother who would sacrifice everything for her children. The only reason she had paid special attention to Edric was because of his extraordinary knight talent. If he had been ordinary, she would have still given him a place to live, some money, and perhaps some care - but nothing beyond that.

And she was not alone in this mindset.

In noble families like hers, knight talent was everything. It determined status, worth, and a person's very right to belong. Even in the great ducal houses, direct descendants who lacked talent were often cast aside - given a small sum, married off, abandoned, or simply left to fend for themselves.

But those who did possess knight talent?

They bore an undeniable duty.

Talented nobles - especially men - were expected to produce as many children as possible. A golden-rank knight was expected to leave behind at least a hundred descendants in their lifetime.

Women of similar talent were also expected to bear children, though the numbers expected of them were far less severe due to physical limitations.

Because of this pragmatic reality - that men could sire far more offspring than women - talented male heirs were universally valued more than their female counterparts. But that prestige came with a cost. A high-ranking nobleman with exceptional talent was also far more likely to be targeted by assassins and rival factions.

Edric's case had been particularly extreme - he had been treated as little more than a breeding tool, coerced into producing as many offspring as possible.

Cases like his were rare but not unheard of.

Some of the most powerful ducal families in the kingdom had built their legacies upon such ruthless practices. They had forced their most talented male members to sire thousands of descendants, increasing their bloodline's strength with sheer numbers.

And that was why those families still stood strong today—while others crumbled into obscurity.

...

As a Silver-rank knight, it took Lyria only a few hours to return to Eagle's Perch City. She could have arrived even sooner if not for the occasional stops - hunting animals to fill her stomach, washing away the stench of death in a river, etc.

When she finally reached the city's outskirts, her sharp eyes immediately caught sight of something unusual.

An orange flag flew high above the northern gate.

Most commoners wouldn't know what that meant, but Lyria did.

"Martial law… Something must have happened."

Her frown deepened.

Before leaving, she had entrusted the city's administration to Aelira, the treasurer - and also her daughter. Aelira was exceptionally talented in management. Intelligent, capable, and fiercely loyal. There was no way she would have locked down the city without a very good reason.

"There should still be six Great Knights protecting her. None of them would dare betray me. Did they shut down the gates after hearing about Windwalker City? Are they afraid?"

Lyria was the only Silver Knight in Eagle's Perch. No one in this city - no one - should have the strength or the courage to oppose her.

"Wait…" A realization struck her.

"They probably think I'm dead!"

During her journey back, her mind had been consumed with thoughts of the monster and the future. It hadn't even occurred to her that her own city might have already written her off.

A rare smile tugged at her lips.

It had been a long time since she felt like smiling. But even in the face of disaster, Lyria was a tough woman.

Stronger than most.

The destruction of an entire city didn't shake her. Death, blood, and carnage didn't disturb her. In fact, she even enjoyed the sight of blood from time to time. Her mental fortitude was remarkable—her ability to focus, to ignore distractions, to push away unnecessary worries was almost frightening.

She had no patience for weakness.

"Let's make sure they know I'm alive."

Without hesitation, she approached the northern gate. Then, with a single effortless leap -

She jumped inside.