Some time later.

Simharia’s throne room no longer held the calm grace it had just minutes ago.

Messengers raced down the hallways, their boots slamming into polished stone as they carried messages to and from the noble houses.

Magic-infused crystals pulsed with light atop the communication pedestals placed throughout the royal wing, each a direct link to distant commanders and vassals.

Artifacts sparked with ethereal runes as nobles spoke urgently into them, summoning bannermen, deploying scouts, and recalling even the most remote battalions.

The air vibrated with hurried strategy and sharpened resolve.

The banners of Simharia, still gleaming in the filtered sunlight, no longer swayed in celebration; they loomed as symbols of impending war.

Throughout the kingdom, couriers flew on spirit beasts, scrolls bound to their sides, carrying Zahara’s command: Prepare for war.

The Queen had called for her forces, and everyone was now hearing about it.

The gates of Simharia’s cities reopened, not for trade but to let warriors out.

Every blade that could be drawn was summoned. Every able-bodied fighter was needed.

As the preparations for war were underway, in the heart of the throne room, Zahara’s seat now stood empty, a silent reminder of the trial she had chosen to undergo.

Her role was pivotal in winning this war, and because of that, everyone hoped and prayed she would succeed.

But the war room discussion continued.

Alex remained seated near the base of the throne’s dais, Lilia to his right and Mira to his left.

Mira said nothing—she rarely spoke—but her light-blue eyes were fixed on the large doors at the back of the hall, the same ones through which Zahara and Asphera had exited moments ago.

It was the door leading to the hall of the flame of judgment.

It was the hall said to house the spirits of their ancestors who had passed away.

The test would be conducted by the goddess under their eyes.

However, as the ones judging the test were the ancestors, no one knew what the result would be.

After all, patriarchy was rooted in the past. A woman queen probably won’t be liked by them.

Thinking about it, Mira’s fingers fidgeted slightly on her lap, and she leaned ever so subtly forward.

Alex noticed and turned to her with a soft smile. “Worried about her?”

Mira turned and gave the faintest nod.

Before he could say anything, Lilia’s calm, clear voice cut in. “You don’t need to be. Zahara’s not so weak that we need to worry about her.”

Mira blinked and tilted her head, surprised to hear that from Lilia.

Lilia met her eyes, her expression resolute. “She’s stronger than she looks. Stronger than even she thinks. That trial won’t break her—it’ll probably awaken her.”

Lilia wasn’t lying when she said that.

After fusing with the ancient legacy, she could peek into people’s potential, and she had seen Zahara’s.

If she had to say it, she would say Zahara’s potential was infinite.

Well, that was probably because of Alex’s system’s interference, but it was true nonetheless.

Alex smiled at her words, letting his gaze drift between the two girls, his voice soft with a tinge of pride. “Couldn’t have said it better.”

General Throne cleared his throat, returning the room’s focus to the main matter.

“Let’s begin,” the old general said, unrolling a map over the council table brought before the dais. “We don’t have the luxury of time. The attack on Ul’kareth decapitated the imperial command, yes—but it didn’t destroy the body.”

Bahir stepped forward, pointing at three territories marked in deep red on the map. “These are the pillars of the beast empire’s remaining strength.”

He was pointing out the posts holding most of the empire’s forces.

Glancing at Reganath and Alex simultaneously, he continued, “The Southern Claw Fortress, the Iron Fangs’ Territory, and the capital city’s secondary bastion—Karkhaz-Duum. We strike them down before they reorganize.”

“The Southern Claw is closest,” Kael added, folding his arms. “And it borders Simharian land. If they retaliate, it’ll be from there.”

“But they’ll expect us to hit that first,” Lilia commented sharply. “The most obvious path is often the most watched.”

“I agree,” Alex nodded at her words, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Although my attack must’ve caused substantial damage to the empire, and it would take them time to fill in the gaps, we can never cross out the possibility of an anomaly.”

Picking up a piece of elephant, he placed it on the location of Southern Claw. “What if someone unexpectedly ambushed us here?”

“But if someone had actually taken up the command, then wouldn’t they keep an eye on our movements? Wouldn’t it be useless no matter where we attack?” Kael suddenly asked, making Alex grin as he turned to Lilia, who nodded, stepping forward.

She picked up two lion pieces, placing one in front of the Southern Claw fortress before tossing the other. “Where does it look like we are attacking?”

Her question made people frown, as the answer was obvious.

“The Southern Claw fortress,” replied General Throne.

Lilia nodded at those words before she spoke, “Look again.”

As soon as they did, they all saw the lion piece she had placed before the Southern Claw fortress moving back, and the other piece she had tossed away appeared beside the Iron Fangs Territory.

As if a puzzle pieced together, everyone understood what she meant.

“We let them think we’re marching there… while we target the Iron Fangs first,” Bahir muttered the words in everyone’s mind.

But then, General Throne raised a point. “The Iron Fangs are the war tribe. The berserkers. Fighting them first might cause us to lose many soldiers.”

Alex’s smile didn’t waver. “That’s why we destroy them before they realize the war has started.”

“We will take them by surprise,” Raganath, silent until now, finally muttered, and Alex nodded.

“That region holds one of their breeding pits and beast-tamer schools. Take that out, and the next wave of beast-riders is gone.”

As his words fell, murmurs of agreement rose, and Bahir nodded. “With the Iron Fangs crippled, the Southern Claw’s flank is exposed. We can move in from their back, taking them from an angle they would never expect us to.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, as they all knew that once those two posts were down, taking the rest wouldn’t be hard.

It would be tedious since the empire was huge and they would need to expend a lot of resources, but if they could win the war, then that was a price they were more than willing to pay.

The silence extended as the reality slowly set in everyone’s mind.

They were really going on a war—that too against the empire that consisted of every other race in this realm.

It was as if they were fighting a war against their whole world.

Thinking about it again, many hesitated, some even lowered their heads, and Alex noticed it, finally speaking, breaking the silence.

“We aren’t fighting a war to the death. We are fighting for freedom. We are fighting to breathe a sigh of relief without fearing someone’s attack.”

His words made everyone turn to him, even Reganath, who was wondering how to get the mood up, gazed at Alex.

“You won’t die,” he said, his blue eyes glancing at everyone in the court. “I am still here, and although I won’t fight the battles for you, I will be there when you are stuck in a situation where you can’t do anything.”

He looked across the hall, his voice rising slightly. “Because this is your war. A war where you show the enemy that you aren’t someone they can step over. It’s not mine to fight but ours to win, and we will win.”

The silence now turned heavy as Alex’s speech helped everyone realize their responsibilities.

They realized they needed to step up.

If they didn’t, then they would always remain the same.

Even the nobles who were scared of fights seemed motivated, as freedom was something everyone loved.

Alex intentionally used those words as revenge doesn’t motivate everyone, nor does conquest.

But if there was one thing that everyone loved and would fight for, then it was freedom.

If that wasn’t all, Alex—someone capable of destroying a city with a single attack—had promised to help them, giving them more confidence.

As everyone sat in silence, contemplating their role in the upcoming war, Mira’s eyes shifted again to the doors.

Her fingers clenched as a flash of gold fire flickered under the crack of the shut doors—barely visible, like a whisper.

Alex followed her gaze but didn’t say a word.

Lilia glanced at the faint flame too, then spoke quietly. “She’ll be back soon.”

And when she returned, they all knew—Zahara wouldn’t just be their queen.

She would be their judge.

Their sword.

Their fire.

And only once the court was purged, and the queen stood purified in the holy flame, would Simharia march with a heart unclouded and united not by fear, but by purpose.

The plans were already made, and the soldiers were gathering.

All that was left was for Zahara to succeed.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep