Frontline Empress-Chapter 72: Unity

I rushed down the fortress steps, my boots slamming against the cold stone as I pushed forward. My heart pounded in my chest, a growing sense of unease gnawing at me. The heavy doors groaned as I forced them open, revealing the underground city beyond.

Chaos.

Hundreds of Gloomtaurs ran wildly, their cries of fear and agony echoing through the cavernous space. The dim glow of lanterns barely pierced through the smoke and dust swirling in the air. My eyes darted across the streets, scanning the panic-stricken faces of my people—until one of them, a trembling Gloomtaur, lunged toward me.

He clung to my robes with desperation, his voice cracking as he screamed, "SAVE US! SAVE US!"

Before I could even react—before I could tell him to let go—his body was ripped away.

I barely registered the sickening crunch as he was flung sideways. His body collided with a stone wall so hard that the impact split him apart, his corpse splattering against the cold rock in a gruesome display of blood and viscera.

I stood there, frozen.

For a moment, my mind refused to process it. The warmth of his touch had barely faded from my clothes, and yet his existence had been snuffed out in an instant.

My breath hitched. Slowly, I tightened my gaze.

A massive man stood before me.

His body was monstrous—taller and broader than any Gloomtaur I had ever seen, his olive skin marred with old scars. His short black hair barely shifted as he took slow, heavy steps forward.

But his eyes—

Or rather, the absence of them.

Where his eyes should have been, there was only hollow darkness. My lips parted as a single word slipped out, instinctual, whispered.

"A Blinded?"

The man said nothing. He merely lifted his gargantuan longsword, raising it high above his head.

I snapped out of my daze. My hands flew upward, shadows coiling around my arms, forming the familiar shape of my scythe. The blade of darkness curved through the air as I brought it up to block—

Then—

A streak of darkness, faster than I could comprehend, ripped between us.

It struck like an unseen force, intercepting both my scythe and his blade. However, the impact was too much as the world around me shattered into pure blackness.

Nothing.

And then—

I woke up.

My vision swam as I found myself lying on the cold ground, surrounded by silence.

Corpses.

Dozens—no, hundreds—of corpses, their lifeless bodies strewn across the streets of the underground city.

I pushed myself up, ignoring the ache in my limbs. My gaze drifted downward—and I saw him.

Shasen.

His unconscious body lay at my feet, a massive, bloody gash stretching from his mouth, past his eye, all the way to the top of his forehead. Blood poured freely from the wound, pooling beneath his limp form.

"SHASEN! SHASEN!" I dropped to my knees beside him, my voice shaking as I reached out.

Darkness swirled from my fingertips, shadowy tendrils wrapping around his face. I forced them to compress the wound, suppressing the bleeding while letting his natural regeneration take over. His chest rose and fell, shallow but steady. He was alive.

Relief barely had time to settle in before I rose to my feet, my body moving on instinct. I walked through the ruins of my city, through the corpses of my people.

The survivors—the few that remained—limped through the wreckage. Their bodies were covered in gashes, bruises, torn flesh. Some barely held themselves together as they staggered past, their eyes hollow with despair.

Then—

A sharp, agonizing pain shot through my body.

I gasped, my breath hitching as my entire left side throbbed in unbearable agony.

I looked down.

The left side of my torso had been caved in.

Blood seeped from the injury, staining my clothes. I coughed, my vision blurring as warm liquid spilled from my lips. The taste of iron filled my mouth. My body swayed, but I refused to fall.

With a shaking hand, I summoned my scythe once more, forcing its handle to bear my weight like a crutch. I pressed forward, my eyes sweeping across the devastation.

The dead. The wounded. The broken.

I had always been selfish. I had always cared only for a select few. Even after becoming the leader of the Gloomtaurs, I never truly extended my care to them all. They were my people, but I never let myself see them. Not truly.

Yet now—

Now, their faces haunted my mind.

Memories of fleeting conversations, small moments that I had dismissed before, clawed their way into my thoughts. Their voices whispered to me, taunting me, screaming that I should have done more.

As I walked through the carnage, the few remaining Gloomtaurs approached me.

"Are you okay?" one asked, his voice hoarse.

Another, barely able to stand, reached out as if to support me. "Lady Mabbel..."

It was only then that I realized.

Despite my coldness—despite my distance—they still cared.

Not because I was kind. Not because I had been good to them.

But because I was strong.

Because I was the one they relied on.

At that moment, something clicked inside me.

I came to a conclusion.

Not the best one. In fact, maybe the worst one.

Maybe it was my pride. Maybe it was my refusal to accept just how much I had grown attached to them. Maybe I was just too stubborn to admit that I needed them as much as they needed me.

But I could not afford to feel this pain again.

I needed to push them away.

I needed to sever my attachments.

I had to become stronger.

Stronger than anyone.

Stronger than anything.

Stronger—so that I could kill that last Blinded. The one who had somehow survived.

...

(Present Day)

(Mabbel POV)

A dull ache spread through my body as I slowly stirred from my sleep. My eyes cracked open, greeted by the dim light of what looked to be the noon sun filtering through the forest canopy. The soft bed of grass beneath me rustled as I shifted, pushing myself upright with a groan. Every muscle protested the movement, soreness radiating from every inch of my body.

I blinked groggily, my mind still clouded. "What the hell was I doing...?" I muttered to myself, my voice hoarse as I recalled the dream I just had.

Instinctively, I tried to rub my eyes—only for a sharp pain to shoot through my arms. I hissed, glancing down at the sight before me.

Broken.

The bones had mended somewhat since yesterday, the pain no longer unbearable, but the sight still sent an ugly wave of frustration through me. The dark bruising was lighter, the swelling had gone down, but the dull throb remained.

A sudden presence beside me drew my attention.

A man knelt by my side, his expression steady yet tinged with concern. A long scar ran up his face, a mark of a past event... when he had protected me from death. His voice was firm but gentle as he spoke.

"My Lady. We're taking a break today per the silver woman's orders."

I turned towards him sluggishly, exhaustion thick in my limbs. My dry lips barely parted as I muttered his name.

"Shasen..."

For a moment, his eyes widened—just a flicker of something unreadable before his expression softened. Then, with the barest hint of a smile, he said, "Let's go get some breakfast."

He helped me to my feet, careful with his touch. I leaned on him slightly, grateful for the support. The two of us made our way toward the small campfire where a handful of Gloomtaurs had gathered, their tired faces flickering in the dim orange glow.

As I lowered myself onto a seat, a fresh wave of pain surged through me. I winced, my arms still limp by my sides.

Silence settled over the group.

Then, one Gloomtaur hesitantly spoke. "A—Are you alright, Lady Mabbel?"

I barely had time to process the question before another voice followed. Then another. And another.

Before I knew it, the entire camp moved towards me like a tide rising from low to high.

Hundreds of Gloomtaurs swarmed me, kneeling at my side. Their hands moved in unison, performing an old, sacred motion—scooping gently from my arms and placing their palms over their heads.

A custom. One meant to ease pain.

It was something most mothers and fathers did for their children, a silent promise of taking their pain away and placing it on themselves.

One after another, they came forward.

"Thank you for protecting us."

The words echoed through the forest, repeated over and over again.

"Thank you for protecting us."

"Thank you for protecting us."

I sat there, stunned, my breath caught in my throat.

I had spent so long pushing them away. So long convincing myself that I didn't need their warmth, that all I needed was strength. And yet—

Here they were.

Even those who once sought to assassinate those last night. Even those who had cursed my name, those who had resented my weakness, those who had grumbled about the lack of action when we returned home.

All of them were here.

Apologizing.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt it—an undeniable warmth that spread through my chest, breaking apart the walls I had so desperately tried to keep up.

I bit the inside of my cheek, swallowing down the lump in my throat. My lips trembled, but I forced them into a small, wavering smile.

Shasen stood off to the side, watching silently.

I caught a glimpse of his expression—soft, warm. He said nothing, but he didn't need to.

Because for the first time in a long time, we weren't fractured.

For the first time in a long time, the Gloomtaurs had become one.

The sea of Gloomtaurs around me suddenly began to shift, parting like a tide before an unseen force. My body tensed instinctively as I felt a drop of sweat slide down my temple, my arms throbbing once more.

And then I saw her.

A woman with silver hair and piercing silver eyes, stepping forward with an effortless grace, completely unbothered by the glares of my people. They moved aside obediently, but their hatred burned into her, raw and unhidden. Yet, she didn't flinch. She didn't hesitate.

She didn't care.

As she approached, my breathing slowed. A weight settled in my chest, some instinctive dread curling around my ribs like a vice. I fought the urge to recoil but still found myself scooting back slightly from where I sat.

She stopped in front of me.

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Her silver gaze locked onto mine, unwavering.

Then, she spoke.

"What is your name?"

A simple question.

But something about it twisted my gut.

It wasn't just a question.

It was a demand.

My hesitation stretched on a second too long, and I felt my own pulse quicken as flashes of last night replayed in my mind.

"Mabbel Glancy." My voice came out steadier than I expected, but I could still hear the faint tightness in it.

She tilted her head slightly, studying me like I was a puzzle she had already solved.

"Do you know my name?"

Her voice remained calm, even, void of any malice.

And yet, I felt it again. That suffocating weight pressing down on me, making it impossible to mistake this for anything but another demand.

"Y-Yes..." I swallowed hard before forcing myself to say, "Lady Ophelia."

A light grin tugged at the corner of her lips.

"Have you memorized the territories of the remaining Bandit Troupes?"

Another test. No. Not a test. A command disguised as one.

"Yes..." I answered quickly but faltered for a fraction of a second before correcting myself by adding, "Lady Ophelia."

Her grin widened slightly, as if amused.

"So you know what territory we are in, correct?"

My gut twisted even further.

She already knew the answer. This was another test.

I didn't hesitate this time.

"Yes... Lady Ophelia."

She held my gaze for a lingering second before continuing.

"Then what territory are we in?"

Something shifted.

My instincts screamed at me.

This wasn't like before.

It wasn't a test.

It wasn't a command hidden as a question.

It was real.

She was actually asking me.

Doubt laced my thoughts, but the moment of hesitation was all she needed.

Her grin faded.

Her silver eyes darkened, their intensity boring into me with an almost suffocating weight. My entire body shuddered involuntarily.

I forced my voice out before I could overthink it. "Th—The Chained Droplet territory, My Lady..."

A slow blink. Her gaze lingered for a fraction longer than necessary.

"Do you know where their base is?"

Again, the warning bells in my mind blared.

Another genuine question.

But this time, I didn't hesitate.

"Y-Yes. Just past the Cragstone Outpost, it is there."

Ophelia's lips curled into a light smile.

Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked away, as effortlessly as she had arrived.

The moment she left, the Gloomtaurs closed in behind her, reclaiming the space she had parted, their bodies forming a protective barrier around me. Their glares still burned into her retreating form, their silent rage unwavering.

I let out a shaky sigh, my whole body still rigid with tension.

"Dammit..." I muttered under my breath.