Prologue - The Hero Who lost her motive

(Sample ver. There will be massive changes with the published one).

It was only a bedroom, yet lavish furnishing and decors made the room look like a treasury. However, the one present inside considered the room empty. It was like a tomb with no coffin; the room was with no life.

As if overtaken by an urge, the woman seated on the throne-like chair arose and made her way towards the mirror; each step was exaggerated and emphasised her glamorous body.

Expecting a face full of wrinkles and grey hair, she glanced at the mirror. Despite that, the mirror responded with a beautiful young woman. Her fluffy hair was a beautiful black that gradated into a light green. The eyes that stared back were cold green, gentle yet imposing. It was not what she wanted her to look like, yet that was how she looked; Beautiful.

“Has it already been over 700 years since I stopped ageing?” she asked yearningly. A woman who yearns to age is not something a person would come across on a regular, but “Immortality, huh? Is it a curse or a blessing?” she reached out to the mirror as she continued, “Usoara, Teren, Rumen, all our friends passed away. Yet I am still here. Leading humanity just as I did back then. Did I make the right choice to stay behind?” Her previously ethereal voice now had hints of voice cracks and desperation. Yet, none of her questions received an answer.

Knock knock interrupted her line of thought. “Lady Haviva, pardon my intrusion, but—” The person on the other side was interrupted.

“Isabel, I have lost count at this point, but did I not tell you to be more casual when we’re alone?” Haviva responded. Her words were commanding, but her voice was friendly.

“I apologise for not being able to say so in advance, but sir Ignatius has come to visit,” Isabel replied, every letter laced with respect.

“And you lead him to my room? Guests have a place to be seated, and that’s where he should’ve stayed. Below. Even more so when they’re uninvited.” A voice filled with frustration replied.

“Allow me to extend my apologies once more. However, I couldn’t stop ‘sir’ from following me all the way here.”

Letting a sigh out, Haviva exited her room. Coming in full view, she was even more gorgeous than the mirror made her out to be. In addition to that, her dressing sense was impeccable. She wore a jet-black gown that faded into a dark green. It also had transparent sleeves and exposed her shoulders.

“Wow,” Isabel let out her admiration.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Haviva asked with a smile.

“Extremely so.”

Though her sparkly silver eyes admired Haviva as if she was a beauty second to none, Isabel too fit in that category. Wearing a midnight black gown that matched her hair, she stood there filled with elegance and glamour as her moon-white skin provided a stark contrast to the rest of her appearance. Yet despite all of that, something felt amiss. Haviva could not stop imaging her with a pair of beautiful angelic wings; it felt natural.

“Anyway, why have you showed up, Ignatius.” she diverted her attention towards the man wearing a crimson Hanfu, killing her smile in the process. Unlike Isabel, every inch of this man screamed "narcissistic," be it his posture, red eyes, brow hair or even the fact that his left arm was amputated. Every bit of him was self-conceited.

Ignatius’ eyes narrowed as he spoke, “Is that how you welcome a friend, Haviva?”

“Lady. Haviva.”

“Have some chill, Haviva. I get it. You’re superior.”

Ignoring that statement, Haviva walked away as if she understood Ignatius’s intention of showing up.

“Come on, Haviva. Even if not as a friend, is that how you treat the hero that defeated Batibat?”

“Defeated Batibat? Ha. Stop with the nonsense. All you did was be a coward and sacrifice millions of lives. ‘Defeated,’ what a joke.”

“It did not matter; they were no immortals anyway. They had to die one day. I may have failed to protect their lives, but don’t ridicule my hard efforts.”

His words almost made Haviva lose all her patience. Her hands rushed to her sword faster than anyone could see. But, she managed to hold herself back in time, “It does matter. Ignatius. Were you born an immortal yourself? Stop with your nonsense. You’re not fooling anyone.”

“But I did defeat he—”

A sudden chill filled the air, freezing it. The cold air pierced Ignatius’s heart as he noticed that Haviva was looking at him.

Before he could respond, she spoke, “Try feeding your lies to me once more, and I’ll show you that even immortals can die. You’ll never gain my favour, and the Leiyans will never make it into the Inner-circle.”

What she displayed there was not just the air of a supreme ruler but also the anger of one. The commanding tone of the Tyrant resounded in the ears of Ignatius as fear overruled his narcissism so much so that he couldn’t utter another word.

“Isabel, throw him out.” She commanded.

“As you wish, your highness.”

End of Prologue.