"Here are the things."

Holy fuck! Why did she always appear from behind?!

I nodded and took the bag from Lydia.

"Good job," I said, checking the contents, the rods were all there.

I walked to the center where Serena stood. She looked completely drained, blood streaking down her face, mixing with ash and sweat. Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.

"...I'll hold on to the baby for now..." I said gently.

She smiled, just a little. "Thank you." Her voice was hoarse as she wiped the blood off her face with her forearm, smearing it across her skin.

I turned away and upended the bag. The contents tumbled out, rolling across the ground toward the crowd.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The crowd instinctively stepped back, gasps and sharp intakes of breath rippling through them.

Heads. Three severed heads, their faces frozen in death.

Serena's eyes went wide, her hand flying to her mouth. "Are they..." Her voice trembled. "The heads of Tormund, Fiona, and Oken?"

Terror and shock twisted her features as she recognized them.

She has done her homework if she can recognise Merin's generals.

I smiled.

Then I turned to face the crowd. They were terrified now, caught between the massacre they'd just witnessed and the severed heads at their feet.

I was honestly surprised they hadn't run yet. Maybe they wanted the SBV gone that badly?

Though I noticed the crowd had thinned significantly. The rest must have fled already. Good. Word would spread faster that way.

I took a deep breath and raised my voice, letting it carry across the square.

"These are the heads of the rot that has been devouring your town!" I shouted. Faces turned toward me, some afraid, some desperate, some hopeful.

"For too long, they've fed on your suffering, taken your coin, stolen your children, and crushed anyone who dared to resist!"

I gestured to Serena, still standing bloodied but unbowed. "My team and I, we are the answer you've been waiting for. We will not stand by while corruption festers in the shadows. We will not turn away when evil wears a uniform and calls itself law."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Some were nodding. Others looked uncertain, glancing at each other.

"We are the Vigilantes this land needs!" My voice rang out clear and sharp. "And we will not stop until every last parasite is torn from power!"

Serena looked at me, shocked, her lips parted slightly. But I kept going.

"How did you know..." she whispered, barely audible.

Hm? Know what? I just used the word Nexar mentioned before because it sounded cool.

"I'm done," Lydia said from behind me.

I turned to see her standing beside freshly made holes in the central square. She was fast.

I walked over and collected the heads again, ignoring the whispers rising from the crowd.

I could see merchants from nearby towns among them, traders who came here to sell their goods, taking advantage of the traffic the cathedral brought. Perfect. They'd carry this story far and wide.

I unsheathed Blood Raven, the crimson blade gleaming in the light. Then I stabbed it straight down into Amir's head.

Squelch.

The blade dug deep into his skull. Blood spiraled upward despite the head being mostly drained, dark and thick.

"I noticed you stabbing your katana into Oken, Fiona, and Tormund's heads after the fight too," Lydia said, her expression somewhere between confused and disturbed. "Why are you doing that?"

I swear I don't have weird fetishes!

"I'm collecting an army," I said casually as I walked past her toward the prepared holes.

It was hard to explain how Blood Raven's Deadmen's Decay worked without actually showing it... and I currently didn't have enough aura output to use that skill yet. I'd need to ascend to Sovereign-level output to unlock that feature.

The whispers grew louder as I took the iron rods and drove them through the skulls one by one, planting them into the holes Lydia had dug.

"Army...?" Lydia asked, her brow furrowed.

"You'll see soon," I said, straightening up.

Then I pulled out my flag, black fabric emblazoned with a crimson raven symbol.

[I want to apologize to everyone who saw that art.]

Shut up!

I raised the flag high above my head, letting it unfurl and catch the wind. Then I drove it down into the central hole with a heavy thud.

It stood tall among the twenty heads mounted on pikes around the square, snapping and fluttering in the breeze.

I turned to face the crowd one final time, my voice carrying over them like thunder.

"This is my flag!" I roared. "The emblem of rebellion against tyranny! The symbol of death for the wicked and corrupt!"

Silence.

Then, slowly, a few hands began to rise. Not in fear, in solidarity.

[Damn, gotta admit, that last line was cool.]

'Don't bring me out of my basking in glory!'

My head suddenly whipped sideways, fast and sharp, toward the direction we'd entered the village from.

........

A smile crept across my face.

"What is it?" Lydia asked, following my gaze.

She squinted, scanning the treeline where sunlight filtered through leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Her hand instinctively moved closer to her weapon.

All she saw were trees swaying gently in the breeze. Empty air. Nothing.

"Nothing," I replied, my smile still lingering.

[You sure attract crows.]

My smile faded slightly as a knot formed in my gut.

'I hope they're Cass's'

Because if they weren't... we had a much bigger problem on our hands.

**********

The sound of boots striking stone echoed across the training grounds, sharp anddesperate.

A guard ran through the courtyard, his armor clinking with each hurried step, the swan emblem of Sinclair Duchy gleaming on his chest plate under the bright afternoon sun. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the pleasant weather.

He skidded to a halt before a woman standing at the edge of the grounds, watching hundreds of soldiers drill in formation.

Dust rose from their synchronized movements, weapons flashing in the sunlight.

"General!" He dropped to one knee, fist pressed to his chest in salute. His breath came in short gasps.

The woman didn't turn immediately. She stood tall in her armor, a knee-length skirt that allowed for movement while maintaining her authority.

Twin scythes were crossed and stationed on her back, their curved blades catching the sun like crescent moons. Her posture was rigid, commanding, every inch a warrior.

"Speak," she said, her voice firm but not unkind.

The guard hesitated, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. "It's... the Farmers' Union, ma'am. They are barging in demanding the audience with her grace" His tone carried reluctance, as if he already knew her reaction.

The General sighed, long and weary. Her shoulders dropped just slightly before she straightened them again. "Those brainwashed fools again." She shook her head, blonde hair tied back in a practical braid shifting with the movement.

She finally turned to face the guard, her sharp eyes assessing him. "I'll meet them myself. There's no need to concern the Duchess with this nonsense."

Her gaze drifted eastward, toward the massive castle that dominated the horizon.

Its white stone walls gleamed almost painfully bright in the sun, towers reaching toward the cloudless sky. The Duchess's castle, beautiful and imposing.

The General's jaw tightened.

She took a step forward, her skirt rustling softly against her armored legs, ready to deal with yet another complaint from brainwahed farmers who didn't understand reality.

Then she stopped.

The air shifted. A presence materialized behind her, silent as death itself.

"Report." The word came out clipped, controlled, but there was an edge to it now.

"Its the new from the Asylum of Legacy."

The shadow stood behind her, draped in a dark assassin's outfit that seemed to drink in the sunlight rather than reflect it.

A veil covered the lower half of her face, from nose to lips, leaving only calculating eyes visible. She'd appeared without a sound, without warning.

"Continue."

The assassin leaned in close, her voice dropping to barely a whisper, words meant only for the General's ears. The soft rustle of fabric was the only sound as she spoke.

The General's body went rigid.

Her hand, which had been resting casually near her scythe, clenched into a tight fist. Her breath caught, just for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice, usually so tough and unwavering, shook with something that might have been fear.

"Are you sure it's the same item?" she asked, her words careful, measured, like she was afraid of the answer.

"I brought it," the assassin replied simply.

Her hand moved to the small pouch at her waist. There was a faint shimmer in the air, spatial magic, and a box materialized in her palm.

The General snatched it from her hands, holding it like it might explode. Her eyes were wide now, all composure gone.

Without another word, without dismissing the guard who was still kneeling and confused, she bolted.

Her armored boots pounded against the stone as she ran toward the castle, her skirt whipping behind her, scythes bouncing slightly on her back. The box clutched tight against her chest.

The assassin watched her go, expressionless, before melting back into the shadows as if she'd never been there at all.

The guard slowly stood, looking bewildered, glancing between where the General had been and where she'd disappeared.

What in the world had just happened?

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