Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem

She chuckled raggedly as a second tear streamed down her cheek, but this one held a different emotion in it. "I couldn't believe that it was reality… My hopeless tomboy of a big sis finally found her place in this world… What a shocking turn of events… I thought you'd never be truly happy if you weren't fighting or training."

Still, Serika said nothing.

She simply moved to her knees beside her sister's mangled form. Her hands rested on her knees, firm and steady. Her gaze, unwavering, met Lysandra's with a strange intensity. It was a strange mix of mourning and fond memory.

Then, after a long beat of silence, Serika finally spoke.

Her voice was low, controlled. But there was a crack in it—a rawness that even she couldn't hide.

"…Was any of it real?"

Lysandra blinked slowly.

Serika's gaze didn't waver as she spoke up once again. "Did you ever… truly cherish me? Or was I just another piece on your board? Just another person you played?"

The words weren't spat with venom. They weren't accusations. Just… questions. Quiet ones. Tired ones. Weighted with an overwhelming amount of confusion and pain.

Lysandra said nothing at first.

Her lips parted, then trembled. Nothing came out.

Her eyes turned toward the sky for a moment, searching the heavens for words, truth, herself. And finally, she whispered hoarsely,

"…I wish I could just say 'yes, of course it was real, Seri.'"

A pause came. Her chest rose and fell, laborious and slow.

"I want to say yes. I do. But…"

Her eyes glimmered with wetness.

"…I don't know. I've twisted myself so many times, made so many justifications… I can't even tell which parts of me were genuine. And that's not fair to you."

She turned her head slightly, the motion visibly agonizing on her pain receptors. Yet she bore with it without a single grunt.

"I became something rotten, Serika. I let my pain fester into hatred and turned my need for love into manipulation. I knew I was broken, and instead of healing, I chose control. I chose power."

She gave a bitter, breathless laugh.

"And look what I ended up doing. I should've been put down a long time ago, like the evil that I am… It would've ended there. But instead… I invited the invader—the prophesied destroyer of our world—into my home. My capital."

Her voice cracked.

"I let him in. And now millions of my innocent citizens are dead. They trusted me… But I sold them out so that I could have fun exploring the vast unknown with my sister."

At that, Rykar sobbed again.

Even Serika's composure frayed. Her eyes shimmered, and her throat bobbed as she clenched her jaw to suppress whatever emotion threatened to escape.

No words passed between them for a while.

Only the low hum of wind, the distant crackle of fire, and the mournful silence that only the dying bring.

Further back, just beyond the circle of grief, Feng struggled to hold her tears back.

She stood beside Quinlan, both hands clutching his hand. She wasn't there to witness Queen Nalai's betrayal as she was busy looking for the Soul Reaper when that happened, but she understood the situation even without being explicitly told what had happened. Despite having been betrayed by her very idol, the girl couldn't help but have a very heavy heart.

And Quinlan… he stood firm, somber and silent. His expression was unreadable. He did not approach. He did not speak. He knew this moment did not belong to him.

And then… Serika breathed in and steeled her heart.

She made a decision.

Her hands uncurled from her knees and reached forward. She took Lysandra's left hand and held it between both of hers.

"… You did terrible things. You drowned in your pain and dragged others down with you, both family and strangers..."

A moment of silence passed by before Serika declared without a shred of doubt in her voice:

"But no matter how much blood is on your hands… no matter what horrors you brought into this world…"

She closed her eyes.

"You'll always be my little sister."

Her eyes opened again. Steady. Tear-lined.

"And I'll cherish that for as long as I live."

At that, Lysandra finally broke.

Her face contorted as she let out a sob that sounded like it came from the bottom of her soul.

"Thank you…"

It wasn't elegant. It wasn't pretty. It was cracked, broken, and childlike.

But it was real.

Her tears fell freely now, steaming the instant they touched her burned cheeks. Her body trembled weakly, barely able to hold onto the last scraps of strength she had left.

Serika's grip never wavered.

And Rykar, with nothing but the stump of his arm, leaned forward and pressed what was left of it gently to Lysandra's other hand, clutching it as tightly as he could.

Lysandra looked between them both—her father and her sister—and, for the first time in centuries, her expression softened into peace. True internal peace.

Her eyes fluttered once.

Twice.

And then, with a slow exhale and a final whisper…

"I'm sorry…"

Lysandra Vael drifted off.

The life left her body with a gentleness that belied the storm of her past. Her breathing ceased. Her heart stilled.

But her expression remained tranquil, at last.

A daughter.

A sister.

A woman, broken but not forgotten.

And in that ruin, surrounded by ashes and blood, the people who still loved her held her hand until the very end.

The world seemed to hold its breath.

Lysandra's body had barely gone still, her final sigh fading into the scorched winds, when a sudden shimmer of light pulsed from deep within her chest.

It rose slowly at first, having an aquamarine glow, swirling as if an ocean tide had been captured and caged within a crystal sphere. It twisted and coiled upward from her dantian, a core of power that hovered in the air above her chest.

Now, with her death, it was free.

It rose into the air in a graceful spiral, light glistening across its watery surface. Within it danced shifting waves, miniature typhoons, and the serene shimmer of moonlight on deep water. It pulsed once, like a heartbeat, then shot forward in a blur.

Straight toward Quinlan.