Olympia — Palace Garden

  Freya walked up to Mia like she owned the place. Safira drifted toward Moon, blade ready, eyes cold. Freya’s gaze landed on Moon… and she smiled.

  Then she started laughing.

  Everyone froze.

  Mia frowned. “Freya… what is it?”

  Freya sniffed the air once, like she was confirming a memory. “It took me a while to notice,” she said, voice amused. “But that scent… it’s unique.” Her smile widened. “Is that you, Mona?”

  Safira’s eyes flicked to Moon.

  Moon’s expression twisted. “Freya…”

  Freya laughed again, louder. “Unbelievable.” She pointed like she’d just found a ghost. “Lyra’s little whore—alive—and hiding in the Assassin Clan.”

  Mia stiffened. “Lyra…?”

  Moon snapped, drawing her dagger. “As always… your mouth never changes, traitor.”

  Safira’s patience cracked. “Moon.” Her voice sharpened. “What is she talking about? What does Lyra have to do with you?”

  Freya’s eyes flashed.

  She doesn’t know.

  Freya leaned in, sweet as poison. “Mona… you didn’t tell her?” She tilted her head. “Mona used to be Lyra’s lover.”

  Moon snarled. “I was her wife, you bitch.”

  Mia blinked. “Wife…?”

  Freya’s smile didn’t move. “Lyra liked virgins,” she said, calm like she was reading a file. “Mona was one of them. She served her purpose… then got thrown away.” Freya’s eyes narrowed. “After that, she tried to become a temple servant.” A small laugh. “Lyra didn’t accept her.”

  “Liar!” Moon hissed, shaking with rage.

  Freya shrugged. “Everyone thought you were dead.” Her gaze swept Moon’s uniform, the symbol, the blood. “But look at you… Assassin Clan.” Freya’s voice dropped, cruel. “So what now? The Mother is who you sleep with?”

  Moon stepped forward, furious. “Shut up!” Her hand went to her pouch. “You’re going to pay for that!”

  Moon pulled out an amulet.

  Freya’s laugh died instantly.

  Safira’s eyes narrowed—because that wasn’t assassin gear. That felt… older.

  Moon raised it—not at Freya.

  At Mia.

  Freya’s eyes widened. “Moon—”

  The amulet flared.

  A magic bolt snapped out—fast, violent, unnatural.

  Mia went stiff—

  Derek threw himself in front of her.

  The Magic hit him.

  And Derek… vanished.

  No blood. No body. Just gone, like the world had swallowed him whole.

  Mia stumbled back, staring at the empty air, shocked. Safira froze. Even Moon’s smile faltered for a split second.

  Freya stared at the amulet like she’d recognized a nightmare.

  Her voice came out low.

  “…That can’t be.”

  Mia’s voice shook. “What power is that…? Derek—” Her eyes searched the empty air, terrified. “Derek!”

  Moon started laughing, breathy and pleased with herself.

  Freya didn’t laugh. She just stared at the amulet in Moon’s hand like she’d seen it in a nightmare.

  “…Lyra’s Perdition,” Freya said.

  Mia snapped her eyes to her. “Lyra’s Perdition? What does that mean?”

  Safira’s blade lifted a fraction. “Moon. What is that?”

  Moon turned the amulet slightly, letting it catch the light. Then she pointed at Safira, smiling like she could crush her with a thought.

  “Better stay quiet, you bitch,” Moon said. “I’ve heard enough from you today.”

  Freya’s gaze sharpened. “So it was you.” She nodded slowly. “You stole it.”

  Moon’s smile widened. “Yes.” She shrugged. “I needed it.”

  Freya exhaled, trying to steady her voice. “Lyra’s Perdition… was one of her forbidden weapons.” Freya’s eyes didn’t leave the amulet. “It can send any living being… into a parallel world.”

  Mia swallowed hard. “So Derek is alive?”

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  Freya’s expression tightened. She didn’t want to answer.

  “…It’s not that simple,” Freya said. “Lyra spoke of a forbidden dimension.” Her jaw clenched. “Lethal.” A beat. “Your friend might already be dead.”

  Freya’s eyes flicked away for half a second.

  Truth is… I don’t even know the full rule.

  Lyra never explained it. She only forbade it.

  Freya looked back at Moon.

  Why steal something even Lyra wouldn’t touch?

  Moon’s voice came out smooth, almost proud. “Still sharp, Freya.”

  Freya’s eyes narrowed. “What do you plan to do with it, Mona?” She lifted her chin. “Is this the Assassin Clan’s new style?”

  Moon scoffed. “My plans are far bigger than this mediocre clan.”

  She let the amulet rest against her palm like it belonged there.

  Then she smiled.

  “I’m going to kill Isaac.”

  All three of them froze.

  Mia’s eyes widened. Safira’s grip tightened. Even Freya’s breathing changed.

  Moon kept talking, calm as poison. “I don’t have a chance against him directly. I know that.” She lifted the amulet slightly. “But with this… I can kill anything.”

  Freya’s weapon slid into her hand—her sickle/foice appearing with a sharp metallic whisper. Her face went cold.

  “How dare you,” Freya said.

  Mia’s fury finally caught up. A dagger flashed into her grip. “We kill her. Right now.”

  Moon chuckled. “You can try.” She glanced between them. “But you’re not my targets.”

  She started to say something else—

  A silver dagger flew at her face.

  Moon twisted aside, barely, and the blade buried itself in stone behind her.

  Safira.

  Moon’s smile faded. “Attacking your partner now?”

  Safira stepped forward, eyes dead. “I’m not your partner.” Her voice was flat. “Traitor.”

  Freya looked from Safira to Moon, measuring.

  Good.

  Then all three moved at once.

  Mia lunged first—fast, precise.

  Freya followed, weapon raised, intent to end it.

  Safira came last, silent as a shadow, blade angled for the throat.

  And Moon… smiled.

  Like this was exactly where she wanted them.

  Isaac stood face to face with Guz.

  The crowd had gone quiet. Even the torches felt dimmer. The air was heavy—like the whole palace was holding its breath.

  Guz moved first.

  A straight, brutal slash.

  Isaac caught it with a dagger.

  Steel screamed.

  The blade trembled in Isaac’s hand from the sheer force behind the strike.

  Impressive… he’s strong.

  Isaac slid back a step, eyes narrowing as he measured the distance again.

  This knife won’t last. I need to end this fast.

  Guz stared at him with contempt. “Did you hurt your hand, great king?”

  Isaac smiled slightly. “I can tell you’re not ordinary.” He tilted his head. “Good.”

  Guz’s grin widened. “I’ve trained my whole life to prove my worth.” He lifted his sword. “Beating you will confirm it.”

  Isaac’s smile didn’t fade. “I understand.” He made a small gesture with his fingers. “Come on.”

  Guz exploded forward.

  A storm of strikes—fast, heavy, one after another—trying to break Isaac’s guard by sheer volume. Isaac kept moving, slipping, parrying, redirecting the hits with the edge of his dagger while his feet never stopped.

  From the throne, Lord Oceros watched with careful eyes and a smile that didn’t fully trust what he was seeing.

  Guz pushed harder.

  He smelled a gap and lunged—

  Isaac stepped in.

  He caught Guz’s wrist mid-swing.

  Guz’s eyes widened—surprised at the grip, at the pressure.

  Isaac twisted once.

  The sword slipped from Guz’s hand like it had never belonged to him.

  Guz fell to one knee, humiliated—his palm empty.

  Isaac raised Guz’s sword and pointed it at his throat.

  For a heartbeat, no one breathed.

  Then the hall erupted.

  Cheers, applause, shouting.

  Isaac lowered the blade slightly. “You’re good,” he said calmly. “But you leave yourself open, Guz.” His tone wasn’t mocking—almost… instructive. “You can’t do that in a real battle.”

  He offered a hand.

  Guz slapped it away.

  “It’s not over.”

  Guz rose, shaking—rage crawling over his face.

  Oceros leaned forward sharply. “GUZ—NO.”

  Too late.

  Guz’s eyes turned white.

  Veins bulged across his arms and neck. His armor loosened like it was being rejected by his body. His muscles swelled, joints shifting with ugly cracks.

  Isaac’s expression tightened.

  Guz’s voice deepened. “I didn’t expect to use my original form…” He swallowed like the transformation hurt. “…here. Now.”

  His legs stretched.

  Hooves punched into the marble.

  In seconds, Guz became a centaur—taller, heavier, half-beast, breathing like a furnace.

  Isaac watched, controlled.

  “So that’s your true centaur form,” he said. “Impressive.”

  Guz snorted. “Thanks.” His blade lifted. “Now stop talking.”

  Isaac didn’t move.

  His eyes flicked to the crowd—servants, nobles, soldiers. Innocent faces packed into a hall that wasn’t built for monsters.

  Centaur original forms… violent. Hard to stop once they snap.

  Isaac spoke, quieter now. “You’re out of control, commander. We can’t continue.”

  “Oh, we can,” Guz growled. “I can still beat you.”

  Isaac exhaled slowly, then changed angle—like he was trying to end it without blood.

  “If it’s the princess’s hand you want…” Isaac said. “Take it. You fought well. You’ve earned a place beside her.”

  Guz’s face twisted in disgust. “Enough.” He spat. “I don’t need charity.” His voice turned sharp. “If you don’t fight… I’ll kill you.” He leaned forward. “And I’ll kill everyone with you.”

  The hall chilled.

  Isaac’s smile vanished.

  “Careful,” Isaac said softly. “You might lose your tongue.” A beat. “Along with your life.”

  Isaac turned away.

  He started walking toward the throne—back exposed.

  A deliberate insult.

  Guz snarled and raised his sword for a strike from behind.

  Isaac didn’t even look.

  “YU!” he shouted.

  A metallic snap echoed—instant, clean.

  Guz hit the floor.

  Not dead.

  Just… stopped.

  And there—between Guz and Isaac—was Anabelle, sword drawn, eyes burning with fury. Yu—already transformed—had intercepted in a blur, catching Anabelle’s blade like a living lock before it could take Guz’s head.

  Anabelle’s chest rose and fell fast. “How dare you…” she hissed. “Attack my king from behind—”

  Isaac raised a hand calmly. “Easy, Bela.”

  Anabelle’s gaze didn’t leave Guz. “He deserves—”

  “I know,” Isaac said.

  Oceros sat rigid, sweat on his temple.

  I didn’t even see them move…

  Anabelle finally lowered her sword, disgust plain on her face. She stepped back, spitting the word under her breath. “Idiot.”

  Oceros barked an order.

  Soldiers rushed in, grabbing Guz, dragging him away while he fought the restraint like an animal—humiliated, furious, powerless.

  Isaac returned to Oceros’s side and sat as if nothing had happened. Yu rested at his feet in sword form, quiet and ready.

  Oceros leaned closer, voice strained. “Great King… I apologize for this. I didn’t expect—”

  Isaac waved it off lightly. “It’s fine.”

  Oceros stood and raised his arms to the crowd. “People of Osireon!” he shouted. “I announce the victor—King Isaac!”

  The hall erupted again.

  Oceros turned back, smiling too wide. “And now… my daughter is yours, great king.”

  Isaac’s expression stayed gentle, but firm. “I appreciate it,” he said. “But no, Lord Oceros.”

  Elizabeth’s face flickered—surprise, then a sting of disappointment.

  Oceros blinked. “Why? Is there a problem?”

  “No,” Isaac said, calm. He glanced at Elizabeth respectfully. “Your daughter is young. Beautiful. She has better options than me.” A small, honest exhale. “She’ll find the right person.”

  Oceros forced a laugh. “I see… well…” He lifted his hands again, desperate to keep the room bright. “Then let us continue the feast!”

  Isaac stepped in and threw an arm around Oceros’s shoulder like they were old friends, making the lord stiffen awkwardly.

  “Let’s continue,” Isaac said, smiling.

  The crowd cheered.

  Music swelled.

  And Elizabeth watched Isaac from a distance—quiet, disappointed—while the celebration kept going like nothing had almost turned into a massacre.