The Mythical Hero's Otherworld Chronicles: Volume 7 [Parts 1 to 5] by Tatematsuri

Author:Tatematsuri
Language: eng
Format: epub

What humiliation. What disgrace. To have the enemy’s back pressed against the wall, only to be forced to watch them slip away, coerced into doing their own work for them. It was so farcical she could laugh. She had been so confident in her schemes going into the battle, but evidently the Lord of Eld had been planning this from the start. Most likely, she had been dancing to his tune before steel was ever drawn.

She had thought herself clever when she plotted the western and central nobles’ betrayal, and been delighted when it seemed to proceed as planned. When the Lord of Eld had knelt before her, she’d flattered herself that she had surpassed the War God. Yet all the while, he had been the one pulling the strings.

“What a pitiful showing. I fancied myself far-sighted, but I could hardly see beyond the end of my own nose.”

She had come close—so tantalizingly close—to victory, only to allow a moment’s complacency to snatch it away. This disgrace would be avenged. There would be no mercy for those who denied her. Those who sullied a queen’s dignity could not be suffered to live. Blood trickled from her mouth as she bit her lip in shame, but her anger was far stronger than her pain.

“I shall see you dead for this. I swear it.”

The tent swirled with murderous rage.

“Excuse me.” At that moment, a woman’s voice cut through the stagnant air.

A figure stepped through the tent flap without waiting for Lucia to give permission. Her left arm was gone—indeed, the entire left side of her body was grievously wounded, pitiful to look at. Even as she projected hostility, she looked as fragile as a glass sculpture. There was no trace left of the princess who had once been heralded as a great beauty. Anyone who saw her now would say the same thing: she was unsettling to look upon, her eyes clouded and dead, her skin pale as a vengeful wraith’s and just as chill. She was Luka Mammon du Vulpes, leader of the forces of Vulpes and vice-commander of the Punitive Army.

“Forgive me for being late. I was taking care of Igel.” She didn’t look the least bit contrite. Her eyes contained no emotion at all.

Luka’s younger brother had perished in the battle with the empire, his head lopped off by the fourth prince, but she refused to acknowledge his death. She had taken his remains back to her tent, where she dined with his head, slept with it, and had even been sighted laughing as she conversed with it. The eerie, whispered conversations that issued from her tent night after night were beginning to unnerve the sentries, to the point where Lucia had received multiple requests for a change of post. Igel’s death had caused her mind to unravel, and she now lived her days on the border between reality and fantasy.

“His wounds haven’t healed yet, you see. I must attend to him. If you have business with me, I ask that you make it quick.

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