Chapter 59

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third person

THE CHILLING sound of the real Arthemice’s laughter echoed through the grand halls of the palace, a haunting melody that sent shivers down the spines of all who dared breathe within her reach. Blood painted the once-pristine floors as she mercilessly cut down anyone who moved, her silver-white hair stained with streaks of crimson. Time ticked agonizingly on, each passing hour fueling her rage at Faerie’s absence.

“It’s getting dreadfully dull. Where in the hell is she?!” Her voice sliced through the air, sharp and commanding, as her ginger-colored eyes glimmered with a sinister light.

Her gaze locked onto the Emperor. Without warning, she vanished from her spot, reappearing before him in a flash. Her hand shot out, gripping his face with such force that he winced. “Should I start the fire now, Reynald? Hmm?” she purred, her voice dripping with mockery, her lips curling into a wicked smile.

The Emperor thrashed in her grasp, his body trembling under her hold. His futile resistance only deepened her amusement, and a cruel, menacing laugh escaped her. “Oh, how I love that reaction! Pathetic... absolutely delightful. Fine, I’ll grant you a little more time. Consider it my generosity.”

To mock him further, she tapped his nose with a condescending smile. His glare was fierce, but he didn’t dare move again.

Arthemice tilted her head, her expression transforming into one of dark delight. “Oh, did I mention? My mother’s body is truly extraordinary. With a little magic, I can strip you of all your power—leave you weak, helpless, and at my mercy. Doesn’t that sound fun?” Her laughter, sharp and cold, filled the room as she floated effortlessly into the air, her figure exuding both grace and malice.

The Crown Prince Lumine, Lady Cecelia, Lord Darious, and Zacharias narrowed their eyes, glaring at the woman before them. Each of their faces bore a mixture of tension and disbelief. Meanwhile, Lady Athena’s usually vibrant gaze was dulled, her eyes empty and lifeless, as though the spark of her soul had been extinguished.

‘Damn it! Why did I let my guard down when I met her?!’ the Crown Prince cursed inwardly, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. When she first captured them, they’d all thought she was Arthemice or the Lady Intruder they’d come to care for. But now the horrifying truth loomed over them: they had been deceived, manipulated into a web of her making.

Hovering above the trembling crowd, Arthemice’s gaze swept across the room, predatory and calculating. “Oh, how perfect this is!” she mused, her voice soft but dripping with malice. “I’ll turn every single one of you into nourishment for my masterpiece. Isn’t it poetic, Reynald? I’m granting your deepest wish—destroying this kingdom you’ve ruled so selfishly. And here’s the best part…” Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “…you’ll be part of the carnage too.”

The Emperor’s eyes widened, his expression contorted with rage and disbelief. ‘I thought she was Artemisia… Why in the gods’ name has that useless child’s soul taken the body of my beloved?!’ His breath hitched as he stared at her, a desperate thought clawing at the edges of his mind. ‘Where is my Artemisia?!’

The sunlight streamed through the shattered windows, casting an ominous glow on the chaos below. It caught the malevolent gleam in Arthemice’s eyes, making them burn like molten gold—unforgiving and unyielding.

‘The way you were fooled by my plea. The way you groveled under the Emperor’s hand. The way you trained relentlessly, only to return with nothing but failure—all your sacrifices rendered meaningless. Oh, how I relish it!’ Arthemice’s lips twisted into a cruel smile as her gaze swept over the blood-soaked carnage. ‘Oh, Faerie... How delicious this revenge tastes.’

Her laughter, sharp and cold, had echoed through the air moments ago. But now, an unsettling silence enveloped her as her playful facade crumbled, replaced by the terrifying specter of unrelenting malice.

“I will tear down the world you’ve built,” she intoned, her voice like poison seeping into the air. “Even if it means dragging myself into the abyss with it.”

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arthemice/faerie

I grabbed my hair with both hands, tugging slightly as frustration bubbled within me. My gaze locked onto Chewy, who sat on the floor nonchalantly nibbling on his food, oblivious to the turmoil brewing inside me. I exhaled heavily, the sound laced with bitterness, and glanced at the door, waiting for Sebastian to return.

“Ha... all that effort, wasted,” I muttered under my breath. My voice was barely audible, even to myself, but the weight of those words hung in the air. This was my fault—I couldn’t deny it. Why did I forget? Why did I forget writing this damn novel and creating this cursed game? I’m such a fool… I spent months judging this harsh system, yet I’m the one who designed it—every flaw, every punishment.

I groaned, rolling onto my bed as if movement could somehow untangle the mess in my mind. “Ugh!” The sound escaped me louder this time.

Chewy noticed my distress. He darted toward me, his tiny paws pattering softly on the wooden floor. With one graceful leap, he landed squarely on my stomach, his weight light but grounding. He nestled his small head against me and let out a soft, soothing meow.

A faint smile tugged at my lips despite everything. I reached out and rubbed his head gently. “Thank you, Chewy,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

“My lady.”

The deep, familiar voice made me sit up abruptly. My gaze snapped toward the balcony door, where Sebastian stood, his figure half-hidden in the shadows.

“Sebastian, what’s the situation out there?” I asked, my tone sharper than I intended.

“The colossal tree… it’s swarming with monsters,” he began, his voice calm but heavy with urgency. “And Seraphim... she’s leading them.”

For a moment, the world seemed to tilt. My mouth fell open, and my eyes widened in disbelief. “Seraphim?” I repeated, almost choking on the name. My mind raced. How could she? She’s supposed to be mine—my beast!

I heaved a shaky sigh, pressing my palms against my temples. Calm down... calm down...

“And Arthemice?” I asked, though part of me dreaded the answer.

Sebastian hesitated for a fraction of a second, but it was enough to tighten the knot in my stomach. “She’s slaughtering everyone in sight,” he said grimly. “Her patience is wearing thin. If we don’t act quickly…”

His words trailed off, but the implication was clear.

My thoughts spiraled, guilt and panic battling for dominance. How can I explain this to her? That her suffering, her agony, was… unintentional? That I wrote her pain with a smile, thinking it was just fiction? That I created this novel because it was my dream?

What a hypocrite I’ve become…

I buried my face in my hands, gripping my hair as if I could pull the answers from my mind. When I finally looked up, Sebastian had moved closer. His strong hand tilted my chin upward, forcing me to meet his gaze.

His emerald eyes were clouded with sorrow, yet he tried to mask it behind a faint, reassuring smile. “My lady,” he said softly, “you need to kill her. If you don’t, everyone here will be doomed.”

I paused, his words sinking into my mind like stones thrown into a still pond. Kill her? But she’s already dead. That body is dead. As far as I can remember, I created Artemisia—the most powerful priestess I ended because of love. And now, the soul of the real Arthemice resides in her body. Their powers will collide, making her nearly impossible to defeat…

The weight of my thoughts dragging me into an endless loop of uncertainty. Then, something clicked. My gaze snapped to Sebastian, standing beside me like an unwavering shield. My eyes lingered on him, studying every inch of his expression, every flicker of determination in his emerald eyes.

And then it dawned on me. A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. Right. I have him—the strongest character in this story. The one who regressed countless times, growing sharper, stronger, and more unstoppable with each reset.

“Sebastian…” I called, my voice soft yet laced with something darker. I reached out and cupped his cheek. His reaction was immediate, his strong hand covering mine, pressing it against his skin as he leaned into my touch. His eyes softened for a fleeting moment, but their intensity never wavered.

“Can I use you?” The words spilled from my lips, unbidden yet deliberate.

I felt him smile against my palm before he dropped to one knee, his head level with mine as he maintained unbroken eye contact. His hand stayed on mine, grounding me, as if silently vowing his loyalty.

“For my creator, I am willing to be your finest tool, my lady,” he said, his voice low and unwavering.

A lump formed in my throat, trapping the words I wanted to say. Before I could respond, he leaned forward, closing the space between us. His lips captured mine with a sudden intensity, their warmth catching me off guard.

I didn’t resist. I kissed him back, instinctively leaning into the moment. His other hand gently pulled mine away from his cheek, guiding it to rest against his neck. The pulse beneath my palm throbbed steadily, grounding me in the surreal moment. He let go of my hand, only to wrap his arms around my waist, drawing me closer with a firm yet careful grip.

His kiss was neither rushed nor hesitant—it was deliberate, consuming, and impossibly tender. My heart raced, pounding against my ribcage as I surrendered to the intoxicating rhythm of his lips.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead pressed gently against mine, both of us gasping for air. Our breaths mingled in the quiet of the room as we stared into each other’s eyes, the weight of unspoken emotions hanging between us.

“Let’s go,” I whispered, a faint smile curving my lips. “We have a war to conquer, don’t we?”

His lips twitched into a small smile, his eyes glinting with determination. “Let’s end this soon,” he replied, leaning in to place a soft, lingering kiss on my lips. “So I can have you all to myself.”

fin.