The next day, Ling kept grinding favor with the vampire sisters, then curled up with Rafi, sweetness like warm tea after rain. Out of their sight, a red‑haired girl burned through preparations like a hidden flame under iron.

“All forces, move out!”

Her voice ran down the mic like a blade on ice. Not far away, a tide of nearly ten thousand surged, boots thudding like storm drums.

The order had barely left her lips when urgent footsteps rushed up behind, breath ragged like torn bellows.

“Re—report, Princess Alicia! Battlefield Three has fallen!”

Alicia clicked her tongue, nerves biting like frost. She chewed her thumbnail, an old habit that rose whenever tension tightened her chest.

“Damn it, another sector lost? What was Shepson’s squad doing? Didn’t they get five thousand men?”

No one answered. War breeds accidents like weeds after summer rain; asking for neat reasons felt cruel under chaos.

“Your Highness… shall we send troops to retake Battlefield Three?”

“No. We’re critically short on soldiers. What I sent just now was already the limit.”

She kept chewing, anxiety clamping down like a vice. Her father was commanding the other front; she wouldn’t burden him. As for asking Ling—

Forget it. I’ll go.

She slapped the table; the sound cracked like thunder, snapping every gaze to her. She pointed at her secretary, voice steady as a drawn bow.

“You! Take command here. I’m heading to Battlefield Three. If necessary, use missiles to support me.”

The secretary blanched, fear rising like cold mist. He’d watched Alicia’s command day after day, but an armchair commander stumbling into a live war was asking for disaster. A mistake was small. If the princess fell, that was ruin.

“Princess! You can’t—”

Alicia had already decided. Her eyes sharpened with Ling’s signature edge, a hawk’s stare under winter sky.

“Shut up. That’s an order.”

The shout hit him like a wave. Military training taught only one thing—execute. Even if your heart clung like a child to a doorway, your feet moved.

“…Yes.”

One simple word came out like a sob. Tears swelled like rain behind glass, but he forced them back.

When no one stepped in her way, Alicia lifted the Demonblade, slid into a black trench coat, and walked to the door. Back to them, her voice softened like moonlight on water.

“In a moment… if—if I can’t hold, fire an Alpha Annihilation Warhead and wipe it out.”

An Alpha Annihilation Warhead—an empire‑killer, a terror traded between nations like thunder in a sealed jar. Battlefield Three was the size of a small country in the Moser Empire. Her order declared a willingness to die together, ash for ash.

If Alicia went alone to face a single dragon, worry would be bearable as smoke. But once the Alpha Warhead entered the room, no one could accept it—the former still left a chance, the latter left none.

“Absolutely not! Your Highness! That thing—”

Their cries could not reach her. Her shadow had already gone, swift as a falling star.

…

She tore through the streets on a black motorcycle, engine howling like a hungry wolf. Ruined buildings lined the road like broken teeth; blood slicked corners like winter rivers. These were the ones who hadn’t reached shelter—maybe a parent, maybe a child, maybe a friend under a slab of gray stone.

The sight clawed at the heart like briars, but Alicia didn’t stop. Mourning was incense. Action was fire. She aimed for the hands that caused it.

Moser Empire bikes were fast; wind peeled past like silk. She reached the battlefield in moments. Above, dragons wheeled like a storm of scales, draconic magic raining down in glowing torrents.

She touched the comm at her ear, calm forged in anger. Under the restraint, her mouth twisted like metal under heat.

“Give me two missiles. Draw their eyes. I’m going to carve these bastards myself.”

The reply came quick. Two missiles whooshed from the sky, streaks of silver threading the flock. They picked two “lucky” dragonkind and slammed them into the earth.

Boom!

Both dragons lost their wings to fire, falling like burning ships. Their wounds gaped ugly, slick as open ore; they wouldn’t fly for a while.

Grounded didn’t mean helpless. They heaved their bulk upright, eyes locking onto Alicia like knives. Instinct said it was her.

Twin glares blazed. Two massive fireballs roared from their jaws, suns tossed at a single sparrow.

Alicia didn’t flinch. She kicked her motorcycle forward; it met the fireball mid‑air. The collision blossomed into a blast, smoke billowing like a black curtain. She vanished inside it.

The two dragons snorted, contempt cold as iron. They turned away. To them, she was already ash.

“Moser Flow, First Form—‘Fourteen Gleams.’”

White lines flashed through fire like lightning through storm. Both dragons’ hind legs fell, severed clean.

“Roar—” Pain tore from their throats like ripped metal. Alicia stepped from the flames, Demonblade in hand, coat licking with fire. She looked like a devil from the Underworld, walking out of a burning gate.

Fear slithered into their hearts like winter snakes. That blade whispered death; their bodies wanted to flee.

She didn’t give them the chance. She surged close, magic hardening her strength like steel in water. One full stroke, and both dragon heads rolled, red arcs painting the dust.

She flicked blood from the blade, eyes lifting to the swarming sky. Dragons packed the air like storm clouds; she let out a breath like a long tide.

“Give me two more missiles.”

…

How long had she fought? Time blurred like rain on a window.

She didn’t know those numbers. She knew her body burned past its limits; her black coat had turned red‑black, soaked like dusk.

One comfort: the sky finally showed patches of blue, islands in a sea of smoke. She was Academy‑rank S, truly only A+, yet she’d held this long—a small miracle shaped like iron.

These weren’t ancient dragons, not the monsters that bent mountains. They were vanguard fodder, but the sheer number gnawed at her like ants on wood.

Truth be told, if she survived this, she’d break into S for real. The thought glinted like a coin in dust.

Emmm…

Spoke too soon.

“ROAR!” The heavy, sovereign bellow cracked the air, pain stabbing her ears like needles.

The remaining dragons scattered at the sound, fleeing like leaves before gale. It might have been good news—if a Black Dragon, five or six times larger than the rest, hadn’t descended like a falling mountain.

It landed before her. The street split with spiderweb cracks; this road could bear a hundred of those earlier beasts, yet it shattered under him.

Its mouth opened; its voice rolled out like stone over stone.

“Human, was it you? The one who butchered thousands of our kin.”

Ancient dragon. It spoke the common tongue. Surprise flickered, but Alicia kept her face like calm water.

“If I say no, would you believe it?”

The Black Dragon snorted, frost in a furnace.

“Hmph. Joking at a time like this. Are you bold, human?”

“Meh. My father says that a lot.”

“You know why I’ve come, don’t you?”

Her eyes narrowed, hope like a thin bridge. If it listened to reason, she could send it away. No fight. No warhead.

“Not here to invade, are you?”

“Foolish. What invasion? Five thousand years ago, this land was ours.”

“You’re not afraid of divine retribution?”

“The gods are long dead. You are ants under scattered stars.”

“Your thoughts still sit five thousand years back. Humans aren’t as fragile as you think.”

“I acknowledge your strength. So what? The strong are rare, and you cannot beat me. You’re only a touch stronger than food. In the end, still food.”

Alicia clicked her tongue, temper flashing like sparks. All that talk, and battle still waited. Fine. If she fell, she’d call the Alpha Warhead and take it with her—one for one. Fair trade.

“Then let’s test it, oh mighty judge of weak humans.”

The Black Dragon didn’t rush. Its gaze slid to her Demonblade, curious as a cat under sunlight.

“Human, before we begin, answer me. Why does your sword smell familiar?”

Sword? He meant the Demonblade.

“It’s just a blade of sharp metal. Nothing special.”

The dragon sniffed the air, a low intake like tide. It shook its head.

“No need to lie. I can smell it—this is the scent of the Fire Dragon Emperor, Samoye. Seems you humans did a very good deed.”

Tch. Is this brute part dog? In a way, yeah. It figured that out?

“So what if we did?”

“I have many names, but the one I favor most is Husky. Samoye was my dearest friend. I thought him missing these past years. Turns out, you killed him. Now I have one more reason to kill you.”

The Black Dragon rose to its full height, head lowering to glare down. Its eyes burned with anger like coals in night.

“Human, will you accept death?”

Heh. Time to gamble. She refused to die young.

Alicia lifted her chin, meeting the Black Dragon’s gaze head‑on.

“But I refuse!”