"With my mind, they're just rabble—mere mortals."

In the firelight, Aelina tapped her temple, her tone calm yet dripping with disdain.

"Then we raid for food," Fro suggested practically. "I can drive a carriage. We'll steal one, load it up, and they won't chase us at night—not after seeing your powers."

"No. Kill them all. Leave none alive," Aelina stated.

"How many warriors does Durant command?" the Elf pressed, trying to highlight their hopeless odds. "How many men?"

"Fifty-three men. Thirty-eight are warriors."

"Aelina, you're the smartest person I know," he admitted, taking a deep breath. "But we only have two swords and one crossbow. And you're no fighter—you're frail."

"Did you believe we could kill ten men before this?" she countered.

"That was luck," the Elf argued. "If they'd spotted you early, we'd have lost."

Aelina shook her head slightly at Fro. "No luck. No 'what-ifs.' Everything's planned. I didn't tell you because mortals can't grasp my wisdom."

She turned away. Fro watched her back, mouth opening but closing silently.

"Fro, you crave battlefield glory—to rise in rank," she said, back still turned as she rummaged in a cart. Fro felt her gaze pierce him, stripping all secrets bare. "Your poor family sacrificed everything for this. Listen: true greatness demands battles others fear to face. Settle for ordinary, and your dream dies."

Aelina turned, offering a black helmet and longsword. The Elf took them, her voice honeyed. "Do you want to be a legend?"

His hands trembled as he stared at the blade like a hero's relic. He fastened it to his belt, donned the helmet. Aelina's lips curled faintly. *Foolish apes—so easily stirred.*

"Let's go," Fro declared, eyes blazing with honor. "For the Queen!"

Aelina chuckled. "A would-be legend needs armor."

She stepped aside, revealing black plate armor. Fro froze, breath catching. Every warrior dreamed of such a suit—crafted over half a year by master smiths, joint by joint.

He approached, tracing its smooth, elegant lines. "T-too perfect," he stammered. "But silver would be better."

"Black hides you in night. Your helmet matches," Aelina explained. "Twenty-three kilos for the armor. Twenty-five with the helmet."

Fro struggled into the Full Armor over Chainmail. It fit like a second skin. Aelina nodded. *Primitive weapons won't pierce Golden Apes—not even crossbow bolts at close range.*

She handed him the helmet. It locked seamlessly with the armor, weight shifting to his shoulders. Finally, she draped the reconstructed surcoat over him.

Aelina inspected him. Imposing in black steel—except for the plump, cartoonish bee on his chest, grinning with big white eyes. She stifled a laugh; she'd made it extra cheerful during reconstruction.

"Ready, legend?" Aelina said. "Let's move."

She activated the Molecular Reconstructor, carving a tunnel upward.

"The plan?" Fro asked.

"You'll know when it's time."

Aelina grabbed her crossbow. The exit opened on a hillside left of camp. Starless night. Her unblinking eyes cut through skeletal trees to the clearing below: no walls, just crooked railings around tents. Flickering fires lit weary watchmen's faces. The forest lay silent, cold, broken only by distant barks.

"See Durant?" Fro asked as her faintly glowing eyes met his.

"All as planned," Aelina replied. "I left clues underground to trap him there. He doesn't know I dig tunnels. He's still hunting his 'treasure.'"

"Clever. Next step?"

"Ambush from below. I'll seal exits—no escapes."

*She speaks like we've surrounded them,* the Elf thought. *But she can.*

They retreated underground. Aelina killed the light, guiding the Molecular Reconstructor through memorized turns—no compass needed.

"Ready," she whispered. "Three guards above. One snoring by the fire. One stomping impatiently at the trees. One dozing."

Fro gripped his sword. Pale blue light dissolved earth into smoke, forming silent stairs. He bit back a "For the Queen!" roar and charged up.

Only one guard stood watch, mace in hand. The Elf's blade flashed—severing his neck before his eyes could widen. The fire-side guard jolted up; Fro's sword pierced his back. He gasped, head tilting back—just as Aelina's Rapier skewered his throat. The sleeping guard blinked awake. A bloodied black warrior yanked a sword from his comrade. That strange helmet turned. A comical, fat bee grinned on his chest surcoat. The guard smiled faintly at the crimson blade—then it plunged into his heart.

"Why did he smile dying?" Fro panted.

"Protect me! Follow!" Aelina commanded, darting through the tent-maze.

Chaos erupted. She sealed tent flaps with the Molecular Reconstructor. Mercenaries burst out, tripping over collapsed canvas.

"It's you!" A burly spearman pointed at Aelina. Her beauty was unforgettable.

"Kill them," she ordered.

"For the Queen!" Fro bellowed, charging three men. A spear bounced off his breastplate. Clumsy in armor, he swung slow—felling one. Knives hacked his plate, doing little damage.

Aelina disintegrated earth, building a platform. By the time Fro finished his foes, she stood three meters high.

"What now?" he gasped, weighed down by steel.

"Kill where I watch."

She rose higher, starry eyes cold on the chaos. Women screamed, tangled under fallen tents. Clever survivors slashed exits. Firelight cut the dark. A torchbearer helped others flee—a crossbow bolt punched his neck. His torch clattered down. Rusty helmet rolling, he collapsed, clutching his throat.

"Filthy apes," Aelina announced. "Your end is here."

Then—a figure in a brown robe scrambled from a tent. An ancient book tumbled from his belt.

Aelina sensed its power. Something beyond her plan.