The courtyard bore witness to a haunting silence, pierced only by the whispering wind brushing past twisted iron poles.
Three bodies swung slowly from those jagged spires—lifeless reminders of rebellion, each chest scorched with the symbol of the Crimson Fang.
As the first golden rays of morning sunlight filtered through the fog, they touched upon the corpses, painting them in a grotesque blend of glory and gore.
Survivors began to gather one by one. The dawn had summoned them, not through any call, but by the heavy weight in the air.
They came from the barracks, the infirmary, the mess halls—some clutching their cloaks, others dragging their feet, still aching from yesterday's drills. But all halted at the same place, their eyes locked on the twisted scene before them.
A gasp swept through the crowd.
Some dropped their gazes immediately. Others stood frozen, their mouths open but words caught in their throats.
It wasn't just the death—it was who had died. Ivan, Arthur,Brent. All of them familiar. All of them part of the camp. Part of the Rhett squad that had survived the last war. Weren't they spared? Why then...?
Murmurs spread like fire through dry grass.
Betrayal.
Treachery.
A plot to overthrow Leo. An attempted assassination. A stolen weapon. Rumors tangled with truth, and confusion hung heavy. Then the doors of the Crimson Hall opened, and Leo stepped out.
He didn't wear armor today. Just a black shirt, sleeves rolled, collar open. His eyes were as cold and cutting as ever.
Behind him stood Jack, Damien, Logan, Victoria, and Evelyn—like phantoms of judgment. Ana walked a few steps behind, arms crossed, her jaw set in tense defiance.
Leo stood still, his eyes sweeping across the gathered crowd. His voice, when it came, was steady, deliberate. "Disobedience... has only one end."
He let the silence carry his words. The weight of it heavier than the corpses swaying behind him.
"We build peace through power. Or we fall with mercy."
Then, without another word, he turned and walked back into the Hall. No pleas. No explanations. Just that simple, brutal truth.
The courtyard stayed frozen long after he left. Some bowed their heads, whether in mourning or acceptance, it wasn't clear.
Others simply turned away, their thoughts unreadable. But one thing was certain—the survivors had seen something that morning: a king of blood, not compromise.
---
Ana's footsteps echoed down the marble corridors of the courthouse-turned-Crimson Hall. Her boots struck with just enough force to let the walls know she was angry, even if no one else was around to hear it.
She kept seeing their faces. Dead people. All gone.
She stopped. Leaned against the wall. Exhaled. Her breath came out shaky.
"What am I doing here?" she whispered to no one. "This place... these people... we're becoming monsters."
The candle flames in the sconce beside her flickered.
She pushed herself off the wall and turned the corridor leading to Victoria's quarters. If anyone would understand, it was her. Victoria had always been the calm one, the rational one. Maybe she'd see how wrong all this was.
Victoria answered her knock with quiet grace. Her quarters were minimal—a bed, a small desk, and a single window that framed the ash-gray skies. She motioned Ana to sit.
Ana didn't waste time. "You knew, didn't you?"
Victoria sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I suspected."
"Then why didn't you stop it?"
"Because it had to be done."
Ana's eyes widened. "How can you say that so calmly? People died. They were executed like animals."
"They betrayed him, Ana. And us. Their plot would've killed Leo. Maybe others."
Ana clenched her fists. "But a trial... a chance to explain... isn't that what we're supposed to stand for?"
Victoria's gaze didn't waver. "Empires aren't sculpted by clean hands."
"So we become like the monsters we're fighting?"
"No," Victoria replied, voice steady. "We become what we need to survive. We don't mystically use control for cruelty—not yet. Leo isn't doing this out of bloodlust. He's doing it for us. For order."
Ana turned her head away, the weight of betrayal growing inside her chest. She didn't understand Victoria's calm. It felt like ice. Like watching the flames of idealism flicker and die.
---
The council chamber had once been a library. Its high arched ceiling still bore carvings of forgotten wisdom, but now, maps, tactical diagrams, and red strings occupied every inch of the walls.
Leo stood at the head of the long obsidian table. With a flick of his fingers, the center of the table lit up, projecting a three-dimensional holographic map of the Dead Zones.
The room fell silent as everyone leaned forward.
Leo pointed toward a flickering red mark on the edge of the fifth zone. "This... is our next target. Zone 5."
A low hum rippled through the room.
Leo spoke calmly, his voice laced with resolve. "It's lightly fortified, strategically essential. If we claim this, the rest will fall in line."
Jack was the first to respond. "It's a solid move. But we need time to train. A scattered group won't hold a front."
Damien nodded, his voice gruffer. "Power is power. We strike now, or someone else will strike us."
Evelyn said nothing, but her nod was subtle and firm.
Only Ana broke the rhythm. Her voice cracked like thunder. "Why is everything about killing? About taking? Can't we just survive? Isn't that enough?"
Leo turned slowly toward her. "You've been naïve."
Her eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"
"This isn't the old world. We don't have luxury to moralize. This is survival. Expansion ensures survival. Weakness invites death."
"And you think fear is the only way?"
He didn't flinch. "Yes."
She looked around the table, but no one stood with her.
---
Night had cloaked the camp in uneasy shadows. Inside one of the smaller dorms, a group of young survivors gathered around a dim lamp.
Rain, a wiry boy with a scar under his eye, leaned forward. "Leo killed traitors today. That's how it should be."
Tasha, seated beside him, nodded eagerly. "If he hadn't, they'd have stabbed us in our sleep."
Another girl murmured, "He's terrifying... but I feel safe. Like nothing can touch us while he's here."
"He's not just strong," Rain added. "He's unbreakable. If anyone talks bad about him, I'll break their jaw."
The others agreed. Not in fear. But in faith. A new faith. Born not from books, but blood.
The whispers spread through the camp. Fear twisted into reverence. Doubt into loyalty. The camp was changing. And Leo... Leo was becoming something more than a man.
---
Ana stood outside Leo's quarters, her heart a chaotic drumbeat. She didn't knock gently. She rapped hard, then opened the door herself.
Leo looked up from his desk, a steaming teacup in his hand. His eyebrow arched. "You always forget the knocking part."
"You always forget you're not a god," she snapped back.
She sat down before he could respond. The silence between them was heavy. He sipped his tea. Waiting.
Ana exhaled sharply. "I told you about the rebels because I trusted you. I wanted something fair. A trial. A court. You executed them like beasts."
Leo placed his cup down slowly. "Because they were."
"That's not justice. That's fear."
"Only fear brings peace in this world."
She shook her head, bitter. "No. It's not peace you're building. It's a throne of corpses."
Leo's jaw tightened. But he said nothing.
She stood up, furious tears forming. "You've already become what we feared the most."
She stormed out, slamming the door.
---
The mirror was already cracked, but Leo's reflection fractured more now. His crimson eye pulsed faintly. Not in light—but in hunger.
He stared into his own gaze, as if seeking someone who no longer lived there.
"Power... demands a price," he whispered, repeating the Sovereign's mantra.
His hand opened, and fire flickered from his fingers.
"How much longer...?"
No voice answered.
But the silence said enough.
He was changing. Had changed. And somewhere, deep within, the Sovereign was watching.
---
Fifteen days passed in a blur of blades, drills, and tactical simulations.
Jack trained squads, Damien enforced order, and Leo watched everything with silent precision.
The final night before the march to Zone 5, Leo stood at the edge of the courtyard.
The wind was cold. The moon high.
Ahead of him, war waited.
The next conquest had begun.