Exhausted... Drowsy.
Ever since the conquest of Bytea, Runa hadn't had a single moment of rest. Between securing the city's entrances and exits, meeting with key figures, assigning guard shifts to the elves, relocating her troops to the noble districts, establishing a new government system, and quelling small uprisings... her body—despite its extraordinary nature—was beginning to betray the limits of her will.
All this while trying to better understand the world she now belonged to.
Runa: "I can't take it anymore... I'm exhausted," she murmured, collapsing into a chair.
Roderick: "Don't you mean 'exhausted' in the feminine?" replied Roderick from his bed with a mocking smile.
Runa: "You talk too much for someone who was half-dead three days ago," Runa retorted.
The scene didn't take place right after the fall of the city. Three days had passed. Three sleepless nights. And although her body now belonged to a battle-hardened elven warrior of exceptional capabilities, it was not immune to the weight of fatigue. There comes a point—after countless hours without sleep—where the body reflexively releases one last spark of energy... but after that, only the abyss of exhaustion remains.
Runa: "If you've got so much energy," Runa continued, "you could keep answering my questions."
Roderick sighed.
Roderick: "Again? I never thought I'd see the day when someone like me—no education, no titles—would have to explain how the world works to my ruler."
Of course, Runa (or rather, Arata) still needed to gather information. As someone not native to this world, she couldn't afford to reveal her ignorance. That's why, among the real questions, she mixed in some whose answers she already knew, so Roderick would think she was messing with him. It was a strategy to prevent others from guessing what she was truly clueless about.
Runa: "I still don't get why most mages are women. Do human females have a special affinity for magic?"
Roderick: "It's not that they're more talented than men. But in the Empire, which values strength above all, noble daughters also seek to bring glory to their houses. Since they have fewer chances to shine in physical combat, many choose to train in magic—either through the military or at the academy. They're more likely to become renowned mages than great warriors."
It was a logical explanation, if one thought it through. But for someone like Runa, who came from another world, nothing could be assumed without clear confirmation. And that was the reason behind her relentless questioning.
Runa: "Hmm... Makes sense. Thanks for answering. I hope you're alive enough tomorrow to keep talking."
Roderick: "Give me a break..."
Runa turned to another corner of the room.
Runa: "Alright. Back to business. Farida."
The young woman startled.
Farida: "Y-yes, Runa-sama!"
Runa: "What's Roderick's condition?"
Farida: "I applied the potion to his wounds and made sure there was no infection. With a few more days of rest, he should make a full recovery, Runa-sama."
They were in the former private infirmary of the duke, in the main mansion. Farida had treated most of the wounded in an improvised building, but after stabilizing many of them, she turned this place into her personal laboratory thanks to its high-quality tools and medicines. She too had barely slept.
Runa took one of the potions from the shelf beside Roderick's bed, closed one eye, and examined it carefully.
Runa: "So they have potions here too..."
Farida: "Huh?"
Runa: "Huh?"
Farida stared at her, confused. Runa felt that gaze prick at her like a sting of discomfort. Had she said something inappropriate? Every time she talked to her, she felt like she was making her work overtime. In truth, she thought that the position of apothecary should be held by an adult... but there was no one else more qualified for the job.
Farida: "It's nothing," Farida said at last, lowering her gaze.
Runa looked at Roderick's bandaged arm. The hand she had cut off hadn't magically regenerated like in anime. The potion Farida had used had merely closed the wound.
Then, without a word, Runa rummaged through her belongings and pulled out a small vial. Inside was the last remaining bit of the miraculous potion she had used days ago to save the dying elven slave.
Farida's eyes widened in recognition.
Farida: "That's..."
Runa: "Roderick, bite this."
Roderick: "Hey, don't do anything stup—mmhh!"
Without giving him time to react, Runa shoved a folded towel into his mouth. Then, without hesitation, she drew her blade and slid it once more over the old wound on his amputated arm. The cut was clean. Blood gushed out again, soaking the white sheets of the bed.
Roderick: "MMHHHH!"
Suppressing the tremble in her hand, Runa removed the stopper from the vial and slowly poured the liquid onto the open wound.
At first, nothing happened. The silence grew heavy. But then—just as Farida opened her mouth to speak—the flesh began to move. As if alive. Tiny muscles formed beneath regenerating skin, bones stretched, joints crackled like fresh branches. Fingers extended one by one, slowly growing, until at last... a new hand appeared.
It wasn't perfect. Compared to his left arm, the new limb was visibly thinner, with little muscle mass. Even so, it was still a miracle.
Farida remained slack-jawed, as if she couldn't believe what she had just witnessed.
Runa: You can move your new hand, Roderick.
Roderick (spitting out the towel with disgust): You could've at least warned me...
With evident caution, Roderick raised his right arm. The fingers moved clumsily, one by one. They looked bony, like those of a sick old man—but they were there. He had a new hand. The impossible had become reality.
Roderick (still with a trembling voice): W-what kind of potion is that?
Runa: A very expensive one. I expect you to work the rest of your life to pay back its value.
Roderick gulped. The awe he felt at his regenerated hand now mixed with a tinge of fear. His new ruler was more enigmatic than he had imagined.
Farida: I...
Farida: I'M SO SORRY, RUNA-SAMA!
The sudden bow was so intense that Runa blinked in confusion. Farida had dropped to the floor in a perfect dogeza, her forehead pressed against the ground.
Farida: Clearly, my potions were flawed in quality! I take full responsibility! I'll make it up to you! I'll improve! Please don't think I'm incompetent!
Runa: What? Ah... no, it's not about that.
She thought for a moment. Then she raised her chin with feigned confidence.
Runa: Yes, of course. That potion contains an extremely rare herb, native to the southern regions. I didn't expect local potions to reach this level of quality without that ingredient.
As she improvised, Runa reflected again on the two potions she still had left. If replicating them wasn't possible in this world, using them carelessly would be a waste. If Farida could brew potions, the smartest choice would be to keep the originals as reserves for emergencies.
Farida: A rare herb from the south...?
Farida (taking notes): I-if it's not too much trouble... could you tell me the name of that herb?
Farida had gone serious, wearing that rigid expression of someone trying to prove their professional dedication. Runa, who had lied without thinking, didn't expect that question. She froze for a few seconds.
Runa: Uuuh...
Her mind went blank. She could invent any name, but if Farida found out she was lying, her authority would be compromised. And if she mentioned a mythological plant like mandrake, there was a risk it actually existed in this world. She needed something ambiguous—something so common that it would sound exotic if presented correctly.
Runa: Cham... Cham...
Farida: Cham...?
Runa: Cham...omile.
Farida: ChamChamomile, the rare southern herb...? What does it look like?
Runa: It's... a small plant, with flowers so purely yellow they almost seem to glow. Its scent is so soothing you could recognize it from miles away. Like... like a caress to the soul in the middle of a storm.
Farida was struck by the description. Runa held her composure, though inside she wished she hadn't said something so ridiculous.
Runa: However... it's extremely rare. Even the elven royalty struggles to obtain it. So... don't expect to just find it lying around.
For a moment, Roderick squinted at the mention of elven royalty. But he said nothing.
Farida: I-I see... Even so, thank you for sharing that information, Runa-sama. If I manage to find a specimen of Chamomile... I'll do everything I can to recreate that potion!
Runa looked away, struck by a pang of guilt. She had lied shamelessly... and now Farida was planning to search for a nonexistent herb.
Inside, she felt like one of those adults who dodged difficult questions from smart children. A pathetic adult.
Runa: Well, if we're done here, I need to go.
She stood up quickly and left the infirmary.
She had a single goal: to reach her bed.
She was exhausted. If she didn't lie down soon, her body would simply collapse. Her vision was beginning to blur; the hallway lights blended together like formless watercolors.
And so, staggering, she bumped into someone.
Runa: Ah...
The impact was one-sided. Even though the other person was twice Runa's size, they were thrown to the ground by the overwhelming natural strength she possessed.
Still, they got up without apparent difficulty.
Reinell: Runa-sama, I'm sorry.
Runa: Oh, it's fine, Reinell. It was my fault for not watching where I was going... I see you've already recovered from your injuries.
Reinell: Yes, all thanks to Farida-sensei. But... you don't look very well, Runa-sama.
Even to others, her exhaustion was now obvious. Her immaculate, almost unreal appearance was beginning to crack under the pressure.
Runa: You know... I haven't been able to sleep well lately, with so much work piling up.
Reinell: I see... working hard as always. To be honest, I never properly thanked you for helping all of us back in the village.
Reinell: I was going to hand you the report on what happened in the tunnels, but seeing your condition... perhaps it's best to wait until tomorrow.
Runa: Oh, sure. You can leave it in the office. First room on the right, second floor. I'll read it tomorrow.
Reinell nodded, ready to leave without taking more of her time.
But just as he stepped back, Runa spoke.
Runa: By the way, Reinell...
Runa: When you came out of the tunnels, I remember Lynell mentioning something about a barrier. But I didn't quite catch it... do you know anything about that?
A cold sweat ran down Reinell's face. The air in the hallway grew tense, as if a forbidden topic had been mentioned. There was something there... something he didn't want Runa to know.
But he had to stay calm. Fortunately, his back was still to her, so his face had time to recover its neutral expression before he turned and replied.
Reinell: Honestly... nothing about a barrier comes to mind. Maybe Lynell just misunderstood something inside the tunnels.
Runa: Oh, I see...
Runa: Changing the subject... I don't think you and I have ever had a normal conversation since the hunting incident.
Runa: And besides, you've been injured in every fight we've had so far. I think it's time I reward you for your efforts.
Reinell: Reward me?
Runa: Yes, reward you. I'm about to assign a group of maids to each mansion in the noble district we've designated for the elves.
Reinell: Maids...?
Runa: Some of these maids were daughters of city nobles, now demoted to servants. The very same nobles who orchestrated Lynell's abduction... to turn her into a slave and do those kinds of things to her.
Runa: So I can completely understand if you want to... "take it out" on them. I'll send you seven of the prettiest ones. Doesn't that sound like a good reward?
Reinell looked at her, perplexed. There was a mischievous smile on Runa's face. What should he do? He wasn't someone who enjoyed revenge, but refusing... might make him look suspicious.
Reinell: Understood, Runa-sama. I will humbly accept your... "reward."
Runa placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling.
Runa: Hahaha... I see. At the end of the day, you are a man after all. I'll be expecting good news from you, Reinell.
Good news?
What did she mean by that?
Exhaustion. Drowsiness.
Finally, after bidding Reinell farewell, Runa staggered toward her room. This time, if she ran into anyone else along the way, she'd simply collapse.
Night had already settled over the mansion—silent and solemn. Everything was in order. Everything ready for sleep.
When she arrived, she opened the grand double doors to the duke's chamber—the room that now belonged to her. It was vast, decorated with majestic sobriety. Luxurious, yes, but not overdone: the space was wide and efficient, a blend of power and practicality.
Inside, darkness reigned. Only a few timid shafts of moonlight filtered through the windows, outlining the furniture. Still, her elven vision allowed her to distinguish enough detail with precision: the noblewood desk, an incomplete library, a table with maps... and on the wall, a candelabrum with two unlit candles.
Runa: Fireball.
She extended a hand, speaking the name of the basic fire spell. But nothing happened.
Of course not.
It made sense. Her body—her character—had been built as a warrior. She had no magical affinity nor the necessary points to cast spells. And yet, she couldn't help but feel a flicker of curiosity... How far did her limits go?
The attempt lasted only a few seconds.
It didn't matter. She didn't need light. Not tonight. She was going to sleep.
Normally, Runa—who trusted nothing—would have secured her belongings, sealed the door, and prepared some rudimentary trap for detecting intruders before going to bed. But not today. Today she was far too exhausted.
She let herself collapse onto the bed.
Her whole body was drenched in sweat. Her sticky clothes clung to her and were anything but suitable for rest. But she didn't have the strength to bathe or change. That could wait until tomorrow.
Runa: ...the boots. At least the boots.
They hurt. She had worn them day after day, walking endlessly without rest.
With clumsy hands, she managed to unlace one, then the other, letting them drop into some forgotten corner of the room. She also managed to unfasten her cloak.
She was done.
She let herself be embraced by the softness of the mattress, which seemed to swallow her whole. Her muscles gave in. Her mind dissolved.
Sleep... sleep...
The outside world slowly faded.
And Runa fell into the gentlest, quietest darkness she had felt in days.
...
She woke up.
But not like other times.
It was a slow, uncomfortable transition. She stirred under the sheets, her brow furrowed. The mattress felt too narrow, as if it no longer conformed to her body the same way. A cold sweat ran down her back. Her skin felt... different. Rougher. Tighter. Her breathing, too, was deeper, stronger. More... masculine.
She sat up in bed.
She looked at her hands. Large. Strong. Veins standing out.
Runa: What... she whispered, her voice deep.
A voice that wasn't Runa's.
She rose slowly.
The sheet slipped off, revealing a defined torso, muscles shaped by years of calisthenics.
She stayed silent.
It was a body she knew.
Runa: ...This can't be.
He jumped out of bed and strode over to the mirror.
The image hit him like a brick to the face.
Kobayashi Arata.
Dark, short, messy hair. Sharp cheekbones. Permanent dark circles. A serious face, more adult than youthful. An athletic body, yes... but no pointed ears, no fantastical clothing, no supernatural aura he had come to see as part of himself.
Arata: No way... no, no, no, no.
He took a step back.
Arata: Am I back? Am I in my world?
For a moment, his heart froze. Was it over? Had he lost his city? Had he lost this fantasy world?
He ran to the window and yanked the curtains open.
There were the towers.
The medieval houses.
The elven guards at the mansion's entrance.
The lights of Bytea.
The morning mist.
It wasn't Japan.
He was still in this world.
Only now... he was Arata.
He let out a breath of relief.
Arata: What kind of joke is this?
He touched his face. Pulled at his cheek. Flexed his arm muscles. Felt his abdomen.
Everything was there.
And yet, everything was wrong.
Arata: ...Though I have to admit. It feels good.
A cynical smile spread across his face.
He looked at himself in the mirror, flexed his arms, turned to the side.
And for the final test, checked what was hidden by his pants.
Arata: My manhood is back!
He threw both arms into the air and laughed like a madman.
Arata: Hahaha... Finally, I can enjoy the beautiful elf girls of this world!
But the euphoria deflated as quickly as it had come.
He frowned the next second.
He looked around. The room was unchanged. Ornate, filled with noble symbols of power. Velvet curtains, paintings of idyllic landscapes, carved furniture... and on one of the side walls, resting on a marble stand, a ceremonial halberd.
The carved ebony handle and gleaming blade made it clear it wasn't mere decoration. Not made for combat, but still real. Forged from steel—perhaps meant to intimidate, or simply to show that even in sleep, the duke never lowered his guard.
He approached it in silence.
Gripped it with both hands.
It was heavy. Heavier than he remembered weapons in this world being.
Arata: Come on... just a little...
Just days ago, with Runa's body, he had split a three-meter log with his fists.
Crushed armor with his fingers.
Toppled a watchtower with a single strike.
Now, concentrating all his strength, he tried to bend the steel shaft right where the handle met the blade.
Nothing.
Not a sound. Not a creak. Just sweat dripping down his forehead and the trembling of human muscles.
Arata: ...Damn it. I'm just a normal human in this crazy world.
He let go of the weapon.
The halberd clattered to the ground with a dull, metallic thud.
Arata stepped back.
His arms trembled. Not from exertion—
But from a wave of anxiety.
Arata: I'm not Runa anymore. I have no strength. Without me, this city will fall at any moment, everything I've built so far...
He pictured himself once again chained to someone else's control.
Living in the shadow of greater forces.
Bound by Laws and Rules dictated from above.
An existence with no voice. No choice. No freedom.
Where the best he could hope for... was a quiet life.
He didn't want that. He hated that.
But without power...
that was the life waiting for him.
The air seemed thicker all of a sudden. As if the world were whispering in his ear:
"You have no power anymore."
He brought both hands to his face, breathing heavily.
What if they found out? What if he could no longer lead the elves?
What would they do if they discovered that the almighty Runa had vanished?
Arata (thinking): I need to think. I need an excuse. Maybe a failed spell... or say that Runa is sick and sent me as her spokesperson... No, that won't work...
He let out a dry, bitter laugh.
Arata: "Heh... How the hell am I supposed to handle this...?"
Footsteps echoed outside.
Sharp. Fast.
Arata tensed instantly.
Arata: No. Not now.
The door slammed open without warning.
???: "What is a human doing here?!"
The voice cracked through the air like a whip.
Arata jumped up, heart pounding in his throat.
Lynell.
Of all the people possible...
It had to be her.
She stood in the doorway like a shadow that shouldn't be there.
Motionless.
Her narrowed eyes scanned him with unnatural calm—like a cold-blooded reptile.
Her body was stiff, vibrating with restrained tension.
Every fiber alert.
Like a predator that had already chosen its prey and was just waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
But the most terrifying thing wasn't her posture.
It was her face.
The expression she showed him didn't belong to the Lynell he remembered.
That Lynell would never have looked at him like that.
It was a look of hatred.
Pure, overflowing, absolute hatred.
Arata felt the air thicken.
His throat went dry.
He hadn't paid enough attention before.
Not because he hadn't noticed her—but because he hadn't seen her as a threat.
But now he understood.
She didn't just admire Runa.
She worshipped her. A fanatic.
A creature whose faith bordered on the religious.
If she even suspected, for a second, that he had hurt her "goddess"...
No.
No, no, no.
That girl wasn't right in the head.
She was insane.
The product of an emotional dependence that he had worsened by making her his "friend."
A full-blown yandere.
A perfect blend of obsession and instability.
And him...?
Just a human.
One of the beings she despised.
Trapped. In the wrong place. At the worst possible time.
Convincing her was an impossible task.
Lynell: "Where is Runa-sama?"
Her voice was soft.
Too soft.
Like rage frozen inside her, just waiting to shatter with a single excuse.
Her gaze swept over him from head to toe, as if calculating where to strike first.
A dagger hung from her belt—fine steel, high quality.
The same one he had given her.
Arata knew immediately: if that dagger moved... it wouldn't stop.
It was far too dangerous an object.
Arata: "I... I'm her servant! She sent me. She said to look through... to check the duke's things. I'm following orders!"
Lynell: "You lie."
The word dropped like a death sentence.
She drew her blade in a single motion, and the dagger flashed.
The steel gleamed in the air like a killing spark.
Lynell: "How did you get in? What did you do to Runa?"
Arata: "Listen to me, please! I—"
But it was already too late.
Her scream was sharp, guttural, filled with fury.
And Lynell lunged like a specter of madness.
Arata barely managed to raise his arms in a clumsy, desperate gesture.
Without Runa's agility, without her strength, without the instinctive reflexes of battle...
He was just a human.
The dagger sank in just below his ribs.
Cold steel tore through flesh and muscle, straight into the pounding core of his chest.
Arata: "AGHH—!"
The scream came from deep within, raw and broken.
He fell backward, gasping, blood pouring in torrents down his shirt.
The pain was savage... but more than that—it was fear.
The fear of knowing she wasn't going to stop.
Lynell trembled. Her lips muttered incoherent words.
Her eyes, dilated, were full of tears. But not of sadness.
Of ecstasy.
As if killing humans brought her joy.
Lynell: —Kael'shara et tuvien! Th'aan vel sirae!
Her voice cracked as she chanted a sick litany.
It was a prayer. A spell. Or a farewell.
Arata couldn't understand a thing.
The words, once familiar, were now just noise. Broken sounds.
He had lost the gift of languages.
He could no longer understand the people of this world.
Arata: —What... are you saying...?
With all his strength, he managed to push her away.
Lynell crashed hard into one of the pieces of furniture. She wasn't unconscious, but at least it would take her a few seconds to get back up after that blow.
Arata rolled to the side, gasping, pressing his wound with trembling hands.
His chest was burning. Air wouldn't come in properly.
A punctured lung?
No. No time to think.
Run? Call for Farida?
But would she even help him now that he was human?
No.
His legs didn't respond.
He tried to crawl away.
Every movement was torture.
And then...
The second stab.
No warning.
The third.
A scream. More blood.
The fourth.
Each one slower. More precise. More intimate.
As if she was enjoying the process.
As if she was sculpting a statue with his body.
Blood spread across the marble like a dark flower.
The world blurred. The edges of his vision began to narrow.
But it wasn't the pain that hurt the most.
It was the fear.
The fear of dying like this.
Alone, without accomplishing anything in the world he thought he could dominate.
Arata: —So this is how it ends, huh...?
His voice was barely a whisper.
A bubble of blood slipped past his lips.
And in front of him, Lynell smiled as she stabbed him.
He thought of Lynell. Of Farida. Of Elendor. Of Roderick. Of the village. Of the conquest. Of everything he had achieved... and everything he still wanted to do.
Was this a punishment? For manipulating everyone to serve his own ends? For using every sliver of power granted to him? Or was it for letting his guard down? For betraying his own distrustful instincts?
For not locking the door last night...?
Whatever the reason, somewhere along the line he had played the wrong card.
And now he would die for it.
Cold took over his body.
Darkness returned.
Again.
Runa: —AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!
He woke up with a start.
Soaked in sweat. His breathing was off, erratic, gasping. He sat up abruptly, as if he were still fleeing from something invisible.
He looked at his hands.
Delicate hands. Pale. Long and soft. Runa's hands.
The silver hair fell over his shoulders like a cascade. Pointed ears, porcelain-like fair skin. Everything that shouldn't be there—and yet, everything was fine.
It had been a dream. A nightmare.
But the echo of the pain still pulsed in his chest.
He brought a trembling hand to his forehead, feeling his heart still pounding hard.
Runa: —What the hell was that...?
A warning to be more careful, perhaps. A projection of his guilt. Or a possibility.
Morning was breaking. The soft light of dawn filtered through the window in peace, as if the world had no idea what had just happened in his mind.
He sat in silence for a moment, still trying to calm his breathing. Eventually, he got up and walked to the mirror.
Runa stood in front of him.
Eyes red like rubies, silver hair, smooth radiant skin, as if snow itself had taken human form. The elven ears gave her an unreal aura.
And yet...
There were dark circles under her eyes. Her expression still looked tired. Strands of her hair were still disheveled from the night.
Certainly, Runa was still dazzling. Her beauty still drew stares and stole silence. But now, looking at himself, he couldn't help comparing it to the first impression he had upon arriving in this world. She had lost some of her initial shine.
Even the most perfect beauty requires care. Habits. Respect.
And he—Arata—had not exactly been kind to this body. He had demanded from it, squeezed it, dragged it across battlefields, never stopping to think that even though it was strong, it was still a borrowed body. One that had given him more than he ever asked for.
Runa had given him power, presence, a second life. She had opened the path to build his empire, to impose his will...
The least he could do was take care of her.
Even though his experience as a woman barely spanned a few weeks, he was beginning to understand something essential: this body was not just a tool. It was his introduction, his armor, his temple.
After all, beauty was also a form of power.
Runa: —...I must treat this body with more respect...
He smoothed his hair a bit with his hands, feeling the knots, the dull texture. He looked at his abdomen with curiosity, touching his waist.
Runa: —Mmmh... though, certainly, these waists are still way too small...
No matter how much she overate, her figure remained slim. It was strange.
It wasn't something she exactly disliked, but from Arata's point of view, it had been years since he had such a narrow waist. Not since he was a child.
It felt fragile... though deep down, he knew it wasn't.
He sighed and turned his gaze away from the mirror.
And then, a voice slipped in behind him, like a whisper breaking the silence:
???: —Are you all right, Runa-sama...?
His heart skipped a beat.
Cold shot through his veins.
Slowly, as if in a horror scene, he turned his head.
Clumsy. Cautious.
Runa: —L-Ly... Lynell...
She was there. Standing by the open door, with a serene expression... far too serene.
Lynell: —Good morning, Runa-sama. I came because I heard a scream.
It's not that I wanted to enter without permission, of course... I was just worried someone might have tried to hurt you in your sleep.
Instinctively, Runa took a step back and watched her closely.
But he couldn't sense the hostility or madness that had haunted him in his dreams.
After all, the Lynell from those nightmares wasn't real... just an exaggeration woven by a disturbed mind after days of stress—and perhaps guilt.
Slowly, his breathing calmed.
His composure returned.
His stoic mind kicked back into working order.
Though he had to admit Lynell had some unstable tendencies, he couldn't judge her unfairly. The nightmares weren't her fault.
Arata had experience dealing with eccentric people. He knew it wasn't impossible to understand them.
You just had to find the right thread... and patiently pull until their way of thinking unraveled.
Besides, Lynell wasn't as bloodthirsty as in his dreams, right?
He repeated to himself that the real Lynell wasn't like that.
...
She wasn't, right?
Runa: —Good morning... Lynell. I appreciate your concern, but as you can see, nothing has happened to me. No one else is in this room besides you and me.
Lynell: —I see... what a relief.
Runa: —However, I believe I made it clear that no one is allowed in here without my permission. You should have at least knocked first.
Lynell (bowing her head): —I... I'm very sorry, Runa-sama.
Runa: —...
She observed her in silence for a moment. Said nothing. Just looked calmly.
Runa: —Ahh... now that you mention it, it does make sense. It's quite realistic to think someone might try to attack me in my sleep.
She brought a hand to her chin, adopting a thoughtful expression that masked her true intent.
Runa: —And for that same reason... it would be dangerous for you to stay in the room next to mine.
After all, I'm now the ruler of this city. Assassination attempts are not a far-fetched idea, and if something were to happen, you might be caught up in it.
Runa: —It would be wiser for you to move to the mansion with Reinell. You'll be safer there.
She paused briefly, feigning the weight of her words as though they were a difficult burden.
It was an excuse.
Runa had allowed Lynell to stay in the adjoining room only after the young elf had begged for three days straight. And Runa, exhausted at the time, had given in.
She didn't truly dislike Lynell, but after that night and the nightmares still fresh in her mind, she preferred to be alone to eliminate that fear at the root.
Fortunately, Lynell herself had provided the perfect excuse with her earlier remarks.
But...
Lynell: —That's not fair, Runa-sama!
I don't care if I get caught up in it. If I'm by your side, I can protect you.
And if someone mistakes me for you... I would be happy to die in your place.
Please, reconsider.
Lynell: —Please, please, please...!
She knew arguing would get her nowhere. And frankly, she didn't have the energy or patience to maintain a battle of excuses this early in the morning.
Runa: —Fine... but there will be conditions.
She stared at her, making it clear she wasn't joking.
Runa: —At night, you'll be locked in.
Your room will only open when I say so in the morning.
That means you won't be able to go to the bathroom or leave for any reason. Even if you want to.
Lynell (with a radiant smile): —Yes, yes, of course, Runa-sama!
If that's all, I'll manage somehow.
It's a very small price for the honor of being near you.
Runa: —Wha...!?
She looked at her in disbelief. That smile... so determined, so happy, completely disarmed her.
Runa: —Forget it...
She pressed her lips together and looked away.
She didn't have the energy to argue anymore. She had too much to do today.
She couldn't afford to break down over a mere nightmare.
It was time to move on and start the day.
Runa: —Lynell, call the maids. Tell them to prepare the bath.
Lynell nodded enthusiastically and left the room almost at a trot.
Runa lay back on the bed for a few more seconds, briefly closing her eyes. The silence was pleasant. When she heard the returning footsteps, she sat up slowly, stretching her arms lazily.
Lynell: —Runa-sama, the bath is ready.
Runa: —That was fast. I'll go right away.
She knew heating the water with magic wouldn't take long, but even for another world, that was too fast.
Lynell: —By the way, Runa-sama... I don't think I've bathed either. Maybe I should...
Runa (without turning): —It's fine, you can come too.
Lynell flashed a radiant smile, her expression lighting up like a child invited to a party.
She followed behind her with quick steps.
They walked down the carpeted hallway, still wrapped in a light morning silence, until they came across a familiar figure: an elf with long gray hair, dressed in a formal and elegant uniform. It was Velia, one of the former slaves of the mansion, whom Runa had freed during the fall of Bytea. Now, her position had risen: she was the head maid of the mansion.
Seeing them approach, Velia made a deep bow.
Velia: —Good morning, Runa-sama. The bath was prepared an hour ago. I took the liberty of getting it ready, sensing you would request it this morning.
Runa: —Oh, so that was it...
She looked at her with a slight smile, visibly pleased.
Runa: —You are more efficient than I expected. You've done a good job.
Velia lifted her head slightly, her eyes reflecting a serene pride.
Velia: —Thank you. It's the least I can do for someone who gave me freedom... and the chance to reunite with my family.
Runa nodded. She already knew the elf had chosen to stay willingly, but hearing those words so firmly was comforting. Sometimes she doubted whether she had wasted that potion... but at least, she had gained a loyal and competent subordinate. Moreover, Velia knew the city well since she had lived here for more than ten years as a slave, and most importantly, she had no reason to lie, which made her a reliable source of information.
Runa: —Then, I expect you to continue serving with the same dedication. You may retire.
Velia: —Yes, Runa-sama.
The elf withdrew with a flawless bow.
Finally, Runa and Lynell passed through the tall doors of the main bath.
A soft warm mist enveloped them instantly.
The place was spacious, lined with white marble, with ornate columns and tall windows covered by translucent curtains. Steam floated over a large sunken bathtub, from which emanated a scent of sweet herbs and relaxing minerals.
Runa had already removed her armor, handing it over to the cleaning staff. The maids possessed water magic, which allowed them to wash it without fully submerging it; the magical water would disappear after a few minutes, avoiding the need to dry it. That eased part of her anxiety. Separating from her armor still felt uncomfortable. Fortunately, if anyone tried to steal it, they would probably fail—apparently, the game items were so powerful that if an ordinary person tried to wear it, they would likely die. Still, she had given strict orders that no one was to attempt to use it.
Runa let out a long, deep sigh.
Runa: —Finally... a real bath.
For weeks she had settled for washing in underground rivers or icy lakes, surrounded by insects, floating leaves, and the perpetual echo of the forest. In its own way, those wild baths had their charm... but they could not compare to the level of privacy and relaxation this place offered.
A forgotten luxury.
A privilege reserved for kings.
And now, hers.
Lynell (smiling while undressing): —Runa-sama... would you like me to help wash your back?
Runa (without hesitation): —While you're at it, could you help with my hair too... if it's not too much trouble?
Lynell (blushing but delighted): —O-Of course, it's no trouble at all, Runa-sama.
She had decided to take better care of her body, and letting Lynell—who clearly had more experience in these things—handle her hair was wiser than damaging it clumsily.
After soaking for a while, both elves were ready to enter the large bathtub.
Runa let out a soft nasal exhale, a slight curve of her lips betraying the beginning of a smile. She approached the edge of the water without hurry, and then, with an almost reverent sigh, submerged herself.
She let the hot water envelop her entire body. The tension of recent days dissolved with the steam, and for the first time in a long time, she could truly relax.
Runa: —Aahhh... this is heaven. It's heaven...
As the heat softened her muscles, her mind returned to a thought that had lately been frequent.
It wasn't that she hated being a woman. In fact, it was fascinating: a completely new experience, a different body, a different way to inhabit the world. But despite it all, she couldn't see herself as such. Inside, she still felt like a man in disguise, an actor trapped in a role too well written.
Perhaps—she thought while gazing at the distorted reflection in the water—if she spent more time as a woman than she had lived as a man...
Could she forget that fact?
Could she get used to it?
In any case, her mind remained masculine.
She subtly turned her face toward Lynell, sitting next to her.
The elf was tall, with a delicate and harmonious face, long limbs, blonde hair like strands of light, and skin smooth as polished porcelain.
And, of course, a generous, firm, and natural bust.
Yes, seeing her brought joy. She could admire her beauty, even appreciate it aesthetically.
But she didn't feel that wild impulse, nor the immediate desire that, in other times, seeing a naked woman so close would have caused.
Perhaps it was due to the lack of testosterone or other hormones in her new body...
Lynell (playfully, glancing sideways): —Ah? Was Runa-sama looking at my breasts with envy?
Runa blinked.
She had been noticed.
Lynell (with a mischievous smile): —Don't worry about that. Even without big breasts, you're already very pretty.
In fact... it's better this way!
Runa (slightly shrinking in the water): —That's not...
Her protest trailed off.
She had no arguments, and not much desire to argue the point.
Before the conversation could stray further, a soft voice came from the other side of the sliding door.
Velia (from outside): —Sorry to interrupt, Runa-sama. Your armor has been dried and polished.
Runa: —Thank you. I'll be right there.
Both carefully left the bath, wrapped in the lingering steam like a gentle mist.
Runa covered herself with a large white linen towel, while Lynell prepared her clothes. The sensation of warmth on her skin persisted, like a caress refusing to fade. It was a strange, yet comforting feeling.
After dressing—or, in Runa's case, readjusting the multiple layers and straps of her now familiar magical armor—they headed together toward the office.
The main office had been moved to the second floor. Although the duke's original office offered more privacy, Runa decided to change it. This new room was spacious, with tall windows, a full view of the city, and a balcony where the breeze flowed freely. Additionally, the arrangement of the furniture, the embroidered curtains, and the tapestries on the walls made it feel more like a throne room than a traditional office.
In one corner of the balcony, a small table was set with hot tea and sweets.
Runa was leafing through some documents while Lynell, with a calm expression, carefully brushed her hair.
Runa: —Tell me, Lynell, what do you think of this city?
Lynell: —Well... I have to admit humans make everything seem bigger inside than it is outside.
Runa: —That's not what I meant. I wondered if, after surviving, fighting, and defeating your attackers... this city doesn't feel like some sort of reward.
Lynell (thoughtful): —I don't know how to answer that. I've lost many things because of humans...
So even though we won, it doesn't feel as satisfying as I expected.
Runa: —Well, that's how wars are. Losses are inevitable in conflicts.
But just because some gains can be avoided doesn't mean you have to reject them; that would be foolish.
Try to enjoy what you've achieved... and don't overthink it.
There was a brief silence, broken only by the sound of the wind stirring the curtains.
Runa: —By the way, Lynell... you never tell me much about yourself.
Lynell (surprised): —Runa-sama wants to know more about me?
Well, I don't know if you'll find it interesting, but... I'd be happy to tell you. What do you want to know?
Runa: —Well, for example... why are you so helpful to others?
Lynell (lowering her gaze slightly): —Oh... that.
I was never very popular in the village. I didn't have many friends either. I felt I was strange.
And after losing my parents, the only thing I could do was support my brother... and take care of Celine, who was always causing some trouble.
I felt that if I helped others, at least I was doing something useful.
And well... it became a habit.
Runa (nodding): —I see. So it was out of habit...
Lynell, you shouldn't help everyone without thinking. Sometimes, giving so much of yourself can be exhausting.
And other times... it can end up hurting those around you.
Runa (in a firmer tone): —For example, if I saw you working hard for someone who only wanted to take advantage of you... I'd get furious.
Lynell paused for a moment. Then, with her cheeks slightly flushed, she lowered her gaze.
Lynell: —Runa-sama... would you get jealous because of me?
The elf blushed even more as she said it.
Lynell (with a shy smile): —So... now it's my turn.
Runa: —Ah... due to certain reasons, I can't tell you much about my past.
Lynell (puffing her cheeks in mock anger): —That's not fair! I wanted to know what your life was like in the southern country...
Runa (with a slight smile, exhaling as if releasing an old burden): —Let's just say it was a boring life. Full of rules, limits, expectations I never asked for...
I had no freedom to decide, nor to make mistakes.
So I ran away.
And here, finally, I can act freely.
Lynell (murmuring softly): —Acting freely...
Runa looked away to the horizon for a few seconds with a thoughtful expression.
She calmly stood up from her chair and leaned against the balcony railing. The breeze caressed her face, carrying away traces of moisture and nostalgia. From there, she gazed out at the city.
Though only a few days had passed since the conquest, life flowed with surprising normality.
Workers tirelessly rebuilt walls and homes. The aroma of freshly baked bread floated from one of the main streets, where the baker handed out hot loaves to soldiers and workers alike. Further on, a blacksmith began hammering iron with renewed vigor after receiving a sword that needed repair. And in the streets, children ran, laughed, and played as if the conflict had never happened.
It was, without a doubt, a living city.
Just as she had imagined, changing the ruler did not seem to have fundamentally altered the citizens' lives. It had been the same in her previous world.
In the end, most just wanted to live in peace, regardless of who sat on the throne.
Runa (without taking her eyes off the view): —I think this is the perfect point of civilization.
If humans tried to advance beyond this, they would end up living like insect hives, sacrificing their humanity for efficiency.
They would be efficient, yes... but empty.
Instead of animal communities, with emotions, mistakes, and bonds. Humans are social animals, after all. Living like insects would inevitably lead them to depression. Don't you think so, Lynell?
For a moment, she felt transported. That thought had slipped out unfiltered, reminding her of her student days when she shared philosophical ideas like that with Kiyoshi on the school rooftop.
Whenever she dropped a reflection like that, he would reply with a worried look: "You've finally lost your mind."
Those had been good times.
Lynell, not fully understanding, tilted her head in confusion.
Lynell (innocently): —I see... I think it's fine for humans to behave like the insects they are.
Runa dropped her head between her shoulders, exhaling as if she had just taken an invisible blow.
Lynell's answer was as carefree as it was genuine. It brought out a half-smile. She still had a long way to go before understanding her thoughts. But she didn't mind.
Sooner or later, she would stain her with a bit of education.
*Tock *Tock
A couple of soft knocks echoed on the ornately carved wooden door. They were not hurried or demanding, but measured, almost timid.
Elendor: —May I come in?
Runa: —Come in.
The door opened with a slight creak, and Elendor appeared, the young elf secretary with green eyes and a posture always a bit stiff. He carried a stack of documents tied with leather straps. On top was the map of the continent Runa had requested.
Elendor: —Sorry to intrude... Runa-sama, I brought the documents you asked for. Including the map you requested.
His eyes immediately glanced at Lynell, who was standing near a small table, watching the sweets left.
Elendor: —Oh. Lynell... I didn't expect to find you here —he added, with a tone trying to sound casual, but his voice cracked slightly at the end.
Lynell: —Elendor! Good to see you. Are you well? How are your wounds?
Elendor (rubbing his arm with a shy smile): —Ah... they're almost healed. Nothing serious. But... if you hadn't arrived in time in the tunnels...
Lynell (shrugging modestly): —Come on, don't exaggerate. I just did what I had to.
Elendor: —Still... you saved our lives. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't intervened.
Lynell: —It was a difficult mission for everyone. But in the end, we got through it, didn't we?
At that moment, Runa saw how the tips of Elendor's ears took on a slight reddish tint. It was so obvious it almost looked adorable. His eyes never left Lynell, even though he pretended to look at the papers.
Lynell, for her part, seemed unaware. She grabbed a small cookie and put it into her mouth completely carefree.
Elendor (looking down at the papers): —Yes... yes, of course. Oh, here is the map.
He handed it to Runa, avoiding direct eye contact with Lynell.
Runa: —Thank you, Elendor. You've been punctual.
Elendor (bowing): —Always at your service, Runa-sama.
Before leaving, he glanced once more at Lynell.
Elendor: —Take care, alright?
Lynell (smiling): —You too.
The door closed behind him. Silence hung in the air for a few seconds.
Runa (looking at Lynell with a calm expression): —Lynell.
Lynell: —Hmm?
Runa: —You and Elendor?
Lynell (blinking, confused): —Eh?
Runa: —What kind of relationship do you have?
Lynell: —With Elendor? Well... we're childhood friends. We used to play together as kids. He always ended up last in the games. He was like a little brother to everyone.
Runa (covering half her face with a hand, trying to hide a smile that was both compassionate and resigned): —Ah... poor Elendor.
Lynell (frowning): —What?
Runa: —He's in love with you.
Lynell: —What?! No, that's not...
Runa: —Lynell.
Lynell (hesitating): —...That can't be true. We're just friends. He never acted like that.
Runa: —Aaaah...
Runa let out a sigh full of sarcasm and resignation.
With slow, deliberate steps, she rose from the couch and leaned against her office desk like a teacher preparing to give an important lesson to her most absent-minded student.
Runa: —Listen carefully, Lynell. There is no such thing as friendship between a man and a woman.
Lynell opened her mouth, stunned, about to argue. But Runa raised a hand elegantly, as if to silence any objections before they could start.
Runa: —What you call friendship is something that works when you're kids. At some point, that closeness tends to evolve into something else. But that doesn't happen because people underestimate love... it happens because they underestimate friendship.
The word friendship implied that both people found something interesting in the other. Whether it was enjoying time together, sharing tastes, making each other laugh, or simply finding comfort in each other's company.
But... did that not apply equally to men and women?
The answer was no.
Because at some point in their lives, sooner or later, one of them would have to decide to choose someone to share the rest of their life with. And if those two people were "friends," wouldn't it be natural to choose each other? After all, they already found each other interesting.
But that ideal almost never came true.
In most cases, one of the two feels more than the other. One waits. The other lives peacefully, unaware. And when that other person finally chooses someone else... the one who waited breaks. And what they called friendship no longer survives.
The idea of maintaining a pure and unaltered friendship after not being chosen... wasn't realistic. Even among same-sex friends, one could feel hurt if excluded or left out in favor of others. How could it not hurt then to see that special friend — of the opposite gender — choose someone else?
That was why, Runa thought, friendship should not be underestimated more than love.
Even when both were interested, they often clung to the word "friendship" as a shield. As an excuse. As a refuge. For fear of losing what they already had. For fear of facing an irreversible truth.
Runa had seen it too many times in her previous life. Friends, coworkers, acquaintances... all falling into that trap. Men denied it out of pride, women out of shame. But at the end of the day, the outcome was always the same:
Regret. And tragedy.
Lynell (frowning, still confused): —They underestimate... friendship?
Lynell: —But... what if they really just want to be friends? What if there's no other intention?
Runa (crossing her arms, looking to the side with cynicism): —That's not possible. True friendship implies genuine interest. And when that interest arises between a man and a woman, it's only a matter of time before one of them wants something more. Sometimes it's imperceptible, but that feeling grows, little by little, until it becomes unbearable. Because sooner or later... someone will want more. And when they realize that the "just friends" status won't last forever, it's already too late.
Lynell (softer voice): —So... you think Elendor has been feeling something for me all this time?
Runa: —I don't think so. I'm sure. I've seen it in his eyes, his body language... how he stretches conversations with you just to look at you one second longer.
Lynell (looking down, blushing slightly): —I... never noticed. I always thought he was just being kind.
Runa (tilting her head with an indulgent smile): —Kindness isn't exclusive to men in love... but men in love tend to be especially kind.
Lynell (bringing a hand to her face, still processing the idea): —This is weird. I don't know what to do with that information. Should I talk to him? Act differently?
Runa: —Well, now that you know the truth, you're both on equal footing. My work here is done.
Lynell: —How cruel! You're going to leave me alone with this after dropping such a bomb?
Runa (laughing lightly): —Just kidding. Listen, men don't mind chasing someone as long as they see some kind of progress. Since you're the one being pursued, you don't need to pull the rope yet. You can keep things stalled, take your time to understand your own feelings... as long as you don't bring a third party into the equation, everything should be fine.
Lynell (amazed): —Wow, Runa-sama... You're very wise on these matters.
Runa (crossing her arms with a slight smug smile): —Well, I don't want to brag, but I've studied all the romantic strategies... so I don't fall for any of them.
Lynell (looking at her with genuine curiosity): —Then tell me, Runa... What kind of men do you like?
Runa (blinking): —Pardon?
Lynell (more enthusiastic): —You seem to have it all figured out, and you know so much about men... what's your type?
Runa (blank for a second): —My type...?
If she had been asked what kind of women she liked, she could have answered honestly. But now... she had to improvise. Pretend desire in a direction still foreign to her. Ridiculously foreign.
Lynell: —Tall and strong? Wise and mysterious? Or those with a melancholic gaze and a tragic past?
The options were many, and all equally absurd for him. Or for her. But on second thought, it wasn't that hard. A narcissist like Arata couldn't miss the chance to describe himself. She just had to translate her old self into the "ideal man" format.
Runa (looking at the ceiling with feigned nonchalance): —Well... I guess I like tall... with black hair... muscular, slanted eyes... intelligent and who can drink without making a fool of himself.
Saying it was harder—and more embarrassing—than she expected.
Lynell looked at her silently for a few seconds, with a slight expression of disbelief.
Lynell: —Runa-sama...
Runa: —Yes?
Lynell: —I've never seen an elf with black hair.
Runa (blinking in panic): —Aaaah... ah, yes... they do exist! In the south. Very rare. Exotic.
Lynell (smiling): —I see, I see... Runa-sama's type.
Runa looked away, cursing internally her bad habit of talking too much.
Suddenly, she remembered she had just discussed matters of adolescent love... with a forty-four-year-old elf. The sweetness of the conversation turned slightly bitter when she realized the dissonance.
Runa: —Anyway —she murmured to herself, lightly shaking her head—. It's time for the main course of the day.
Over the last three days, amid documents and conversations, she had managed to gather a good amount of useful information about the world she was trapped in. But nothing compared to a broad overview to organize the chaos.
She took the map Elendor had brought and unrolled it over the table. The parchment creaked as if waking from a long sleep.
Runa leaned over the large map, her eyes tracing the contours carefully drawn in various colored inks. Although old, each region was outlined with almost reverent detail.
Her finger stopped over Bytea, marked in scarlet ink. Her conquest. Her city. Her new burden.
But when she lifted her gaze to take in the rest of the continent, a feeling of confinement overwhelmed her. Bytea was nothing more than a border stronghold, poorly supplied and geographically cornered between potential enemies, ambiguous allies, and difficult natural obstacles.
To the south, beyond the Lughwood Forest and part of the Fanglaris Mountain Range, lay the Elven Kingdom of Isomereth. Runa smiled ironically. That very kingdom had been mentioned earlier to justify her false origin.
Isomereth was an isolationist and enigmatic nation, enveloped for centuries by a barrier of pure mana known as the Veil of Activaria, a magical manifestation that could only be crossed by those born within its domains. It was said the veil was sustained by a nexus of elemental energy anchored to the Primordial Tree, located in the heart of the kingdom. There were no credible records of any outsider who had crossed it.
That radical neutrality was non-negotiable, not even with the noble houses of Algorythia. Isomereth's external activity was minimal and carefully controlled. Still, rumors said they mastered advanced branches of elemental magic, with clans specialized in fire, ice, lightning, wind, stone, and water.
A pity. They would be formidable allies... but it was impossible to get close. On the other hand, that also meant no one could easily verify her lie.
To the west of Bytea, beyond the Lughwood where she had started in this world, stretched the Poisonous Desert of Semaris, a barren and toxic region acting as a natural barrier toward the Kingdom of Vectoris, the other great human power in the region.
Vectoris had been in conflict with Algorythia for years. Although its army was strong, the nation suffered from some political fragmentation. Unlike Algorythia, which based its power on magic, Vectoris relied on the Sacred Arts: combat techniques, blessings, and spiritual discipline channeled through the faith of the Church of the Four Encounters.
Its most powerful order, the Knights of the Gradient, were known to resist curses, walk on flames, and pierce magical shields with imbued swords. Their magic was scarce but compensated by sacred artifacts and ancient relics.
Runa narrowed her eyes. Vectoris could be an enemy of Algorythia... but that didn't automatically make it her ally. Moreover, between them and Bytea were two dangerous zones, and their main forces were deployed much farther north. Asking for help was, for now, unrealistic.
And speaking of the main enemy...
Algorythia, the empire to which Bytea had belonged until recently, had expanded its dominion over nearly the entire south and east of the continent. Its army was strong, backed by magic, human and semi-human soldiers, and a great number of magical artifacts. Its advance had been as fast as it was relentless.
But that speed had left cracks. Insurrections in conquered territories, overwhelmed supply routes, and increasingly strained diplomacy with its neighbors. The empire was strong, but not invulnerable.
Finally, to the north, above Algorythia and Vectoris, lay the neutral country of Quantaris. Little was known about it, but it was known to be the third largest country in the region and participated in international treaties only to reaffirm its neutrality. At least they weren't as secluded as Isomereth, but neither did they easily meddle in others' affairs.
Its practitioners were famous for mastering psychic magic and spatial interference magic. They also traded enchanted relics and objects of power, although their main client was Algorythia.
Runa frowned and murmured, barely audible:
Runa: —Quantaris... —she whispered, almost without voice—. I can't help but think they have something to do with my summoning.
It was just a hunch, but increasingly hard to ignore. If anyone had the power to tear a soul from one world and reconstruct it in another body, it was them. Everything fit. Even the names of the nations... Algorythia, Vectoris, Quantaris — they all reminded her of subjects from her old world.
Runa: —Perfect, in the end it'll be physics' fault.
Runa shifted her gaze to the northeast of the Algorythia empire, where a small nation called Electrum barely held on. It had been an ally of Vectoris in their opposition to Algorythian expansionism, but now it seemed more a symbol of the past than a present force, having lost nearly all its territory. To the northwest of Vectoris rose the mountainous kingdom of Ferrumdar, home to dwarves. They were also allies of Vectoris, though their support was limited.
In the heart of the continent, where many routes converged, was the Druidic Sanctuary. A neutral, autonomous enclave respected by all nations. It was home to druids, sages, and magical artisans. It was said they possessed the greatest network of knowledge in the world, and were responsible for many magical and technological advances that sustained civilization.
Beyond their neutrality, they acted as an international regulatory entity. They provided artifacts, enchantments, grimoires, and magical resources only to those countries that complied with their strict protocols of war, trade, and diplomacy. Breaking their rules was tantamount to an invisible but deadly sentence: total exclusion from their magical and technological advances.
Algorythia, though still maintaining a symbolic embassy at the Sanctuary, had been barred from all benefits for years.
Runa: —Well —she murmured with a crooked smile—, it seems that even in this world, exclusion works as a threat too.
Finally, as she scanned the edge of the map, Runa saw marks of ancient zones already conquered by Algorythia. Devastated regions. Stripped resource lines. Ethnic groups forcibly mixed.
The message was clear: the empire knew no limits.
Runa exhaled slowly and leaned back in her chair, eyes half-closed. The map had ceased to be just pretty colors and drawn lines. Now it was a minefield.
She turned her gaze back to Bytea, marked in red like a fresh wound amid the chaos.
Runa: —We are lost.
It had no trade routes. No allies. Surrounded by hostile or inaccessible territories, with no clear escape routes. If Algorythia decided to send reinforcements, Bytea wouldn't be a conquered city... it would be a cage. And she, the target at its center.
Runa: —Well... —she added with a bitter smile—. Luckily, they have too many enemies in other regions. They can't fully focus on Bytea... yet.
The situation was desperate, yes. But not insurmountable. If she managed to secure a route to Vectoris, establish contact with the Druidic Sanctuary, or even exploit her lie about Isomereth, she could shift the pieces of this game... and tilt the board in her favor.
Now she had the map. She knew the world.
And very soon... the world would know her.
End of Part 12