Deep within an uncharted land, far beyond the reach of humans
There lay a kingdom
A land of warriors.
A land of strength.
A land untouched by human conflicts.
Inside the grand palace of the Amazarak, the ruling tribe of fierce, battle-hardened womenā
A stunning, powerful queen lounged on her throne.
Her long, toned legs crossed elegantly, golden ornaments adorning her tanned skin.
Her piercing eyes gleamed with curiosity as she rested her cheek against her knuckles.
"How is the human?"
Her voice was smooth, yet commanding.
The female warrior kneeling before her lowered her head in respect.
"He is weak, but will recover."
The queen narrowed her eyes, tapping her fingers against the armrest of her throne.
"Any information about him?"
The warrior shook her head.
"No, Your Highness."
The queen let out a soft hum, her lips curling into a sly smile.
A human, washed up in her land?
This was rare.
And rare thingsā¦ always had value.
She knew one thing for certainā
No human ever reached their lands by accident.
And this oneā¦
He might prove entertaining.
Her voice was like silk as she spoke.
"This humanā¦ he bears the mark of our goddess, Ementhiya?"
The warrior beside her nodded.
"According to our Oracles, yes."
A pause.
The Queen's gaze flickered with intrigue.
Ementhiyaāone of the Three Goddesses.
The same goddess who blessed the so-called 'Heroes.'
The same goddess who was worshipped by the follower of the Saint of Three Gods.
How interesting.
A dangerous smile played at her lips.
A hero of the Goddessā¦ washed up in her lands?
Fate had brought him here.
And fateā¦ always had a plan.
The Queen of Amazarak paused, her smirk widening as she tilted her head slightly.
"Soā¦ this is the will of the Goddess?"
Her tone was amused, yet laced with something deeperā
Intrigue. Desire. Possession.
She ran her fingers lightly along her jawline, deep in thought.
Inside her mindāa single realization formed.
This young manā¦
He was different.
More handsome. More charming.
Moreā¦ appealing than the rugged, battle-hardened men of her tribe.
And she wanted him.
Her eyes gleamed with hunger as she turned to her warriors.
Thenāher tongue flicked across her lips, slow and deliberate.
"Tell the othersā¦"
Her voice dripped with authority.
"ā¦This hero is mine."
The warriors exchanged glancesābut none dared to question her.
For when their queen desired somethingā¦
She always got what she wanted."
Queen Zephyra took a slow, deliberate step forward.
Her golden ornaments clinked softly, the fabric of her robes sliding smoothly over her sun-kissed skin.
A dozen elite warriors followed behind her, their expressions unreadableābut their loyalty absolute.
She was not a queen to be challenged.
For in Amazarak, the throne belonged only to those with bloodline, power, magic, and mastery.
And Zephyra had all four.
None dared to oppose her.
None dared to claim what was hers.
The flaps of the healing tent swayed gently
Queen Zephyra stepped into the healing tent, her sharp eyes scanning the unconscious man before her.
He lay stillāhis chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths.
Her gaze traced over his body.
His smooth, pale skin.
The hard lines of his muscles.
His strikingly handsome face.
A man born for battleā¦ but also for something more.
But thenāher eyes settled on the empty space where his left arm should have been.
And she smirked.
Something stirred inside her.
A man like thisāso strong, so promisingāwas incomplete.
Unacceptable.
She wanted him whole.
She wanted his hands to touch her, to caress her, to belong to her.
And she would ensure he was perfect.
Her perfect warrior.
Her perfect man.
Zephyra turned to her healers, her voice firm yet sultry.
"Once he awakens and regains his strengthā¦ ensure that he comes to me at the palace."
The healers lowered their heads in obedience.
Zephyra smirked one last time before turning away.
Her hips swayed with confidence as she stepped out of the tent, her warriors following silently.
Inside her mind, one thing was certain.
This hero had been given to her by fate.
And she would not let him go.
For Queen Zephyra, restoring this handsome man's left hand was a trivial matter.
With her magic, resources, and the secrets of Amazarak, she could give him back what he had lostā
Stronger. Better. Unbreakable.
But as she walked through the palace halls, a wicked smirk graced her lips.
Inside her dirty, possessive mindā
"Don't worry, handsomeā¦"
"I'll make you whole again."
"I'll make you perfect."
"And once you're mineā¦ you'll never leave my side."
Meanwhile in Klimbert region
Inside his private chamber, Klimbert's fingers drummed aggressively against his desk.
His face was twisted with fury.
All his meticulously crafted plansāgone.
The weaker noble territories he had aimed to conquer?
Out of reach.
And why?
Because that damned king had interfered.
Nowāhe was trapped.
Forced to stay still.
Unable to strike.
"Anem."
His trusted butler stepped forward with a bow.
"Yes, my lord?"
Klimbert's eyes darkened.
"Status of our troops?"
Anem adjusted his glasses.
"They have all returned to our region, my lord. Since we cannot make any moves at this time."
Klimbert gritted his teeth, annoyed but unsurprised.
"Report on recruitment. And our total forces?"
Anem nodded, listing the numbers with precision.
3,000 active troops guarding our borders.
7,000 standby forces that were originally prepared for invasion.
15,000 in reserve, awaiting mobilization.
30,000 fully trained in the barracks.
But thenāAnem's voice lowered slightly.
"ā¦Due to the royal forces being stationed in our region and others, we are limiting active training. Only 1,000 soldiers train per week, and we rotate them to avoid suspicion.
We have also ensured all advanced training is done in secret."
Klimbert's lips curled into a dangerous smirk.
"Good."
He leaned back in his chair.
So what if he couldn't move now?
Time was still on his side.
The king wouldn't be watching forever.
And when that time cameā
He would strike.
Klimbert leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening.
Armand? Not worth it anymore.
It was clearāArmand would not strike first
Insteadāhe would wait.
Let Armand sit in their fortress, untouchable.
Meanwhileāhe would move elsewhere.
"Anem."
His butler stood at attention.
"Yes, my lord?"
Klimbert waved a hand lazily.
"Ensure the plan proceeds as scheduled."
Anem bowed.
"Yes, my lord."
The plan to sabotage his neighboring regionsā
To weaken their soldiers, to spread whispers of instability, to turn the people against their own rulersā
Would continue.
Klimbert's eyes gleamed.
"Our spies?"
Anem adjusted his gloves.
"Already positioned among the noble elite's workers. Their trust has been secured."
But thenāhis tone turned grim.
"ā¦However, we cannot move within Armand. Their counterintelligence is unmatched. No spies have succeeded in infiltrating their ranks."
Klimbert scoffed.
"Bah, who cares? We don't need to bother with Armand anymore."
His eyes turned toward the map sprawled across his desk.
His true targets.
"These other regionsā¦ they have rich lands. They hold the resources I want."
He ran a finger over the borders of the weaker noble territories.
"Once I take themā¦ I won't just have a stronger region than Armand."
His grin stretched wider.
"I'll have a stronger region than the king himself."
( End of Chapter )