Unrivaled in another world

[: 3rd POV :]

[: Five Years Ago :]

In the deepest sanctum of the Human Imperial Palace, where no common soul or even high-ranking noble dared to tread without the Empress's consent, lay a place untouched by time—a private garden veiled in silence and sorrow.

Once, it had been a sanctuary of warmth, blooming with mana-infused flowers that sang with joy, trees that whispered lullabies to the wind, and a sky that was always enchanted to glow with a soft twilight.

But now… the colours had dulled.

The flowers no longer sang.

The winds mourned instead of hummed.

And at the centre of this forgotten paradise sat a woman upon a white stone bench, her regal gown trailing onto the moss-laced ground, her silver hair cascading like a waterfall over her shoulders—unkempt and weary.

Her name was Empress Melira Velaria.

A figure of endless wisdom.

A paragon of power and poise.

But here—here in this sacred garden—she was not a ruler.

She was simply a mother who had lost her child.

Her once-brilliant eyes, now lifeless and dulled with time, stared at the surface of the small pond nearby, hands resting in her lap with fingers curled tightly.

Years had passed, but the ache had only deepened.

The world had moved on, but she had not.

She didn't even flinch when a powerful surge of mana rippled across the continent, momentarily shaking the air with divine resonance.

But then—something happened.

A spark… a pulse.

A faint vibration in the magical leyline that ran through her soul—through her blood.

Something so ancient and intimate that only she could feel it.

Her breath hitched.

Her eyes widened ever so slightly, shimmering faintly.

"…W-What…?" she whispered.

Suddenly, her heart began to race—faster, faster, as if trying to leap out of her chest.

Her vision blurred with sudden heat, her hands trembling.

And then she felt it—undeniable.

A bloodline awakening.

Not just any bloodline—but hers and his.

Melira gasped sharply, rising to her feet so suddenly that the petals around her were disturbed by a wave of her mana.

"Son…?"

The word left her lips like a fragile prayer, barely a whisper.

Her voice cracked, dry from years of silence.

Her hands clenched over her chest, as if trying to contain the storm rising within.

"...My son… is alive?" she whispered again, blinking as tears welled up in her once-emotionless eyes.

She staggered a step forward, her knees almost giving in, overwhelmed by the surge of hope that flooded her senses.

"No... this can't be... Is it true?"

Her voice was trembling now, caught between disbelief and the desperate yearning of a grieving mother.

"A-Am I dreaming…? Could this finally be…?"

A memory flashed before her—the last time she saw him. Wrapped in silk, cradled in the arms of her most trusted maid.

The sound of panic.

The act of betrayal.

The forest where she had lost her child.

The screams burst out.

She had searched the forest for weeks, no months, despite her court advising against it.

She ignored royal duties, ransacked enemy hideouts, and interrogated every trace of the Organisation until her name became feared even among the criminal underworld.

But there had been nothing.

No body and not even his scent.

Just… emptiness.

And now…

Melira dropped to her knees as the realisation struck her like thunder.

"T-This feeling… I know it… I know it!" she sobbed, her voice cracking into the quiet air.

"T-This is not an illusion! Not a fragment of my wishful mind! My son… m-my child… h-he's truly alive!"

Her tears flowed freely now, unrestrained.

The Empress, feared and revered by millions, broke down beneath the moonlit canopy of her private garden, shaking with emotion as if her very soul had been reignited.

She laughed—a sound that hadn't been heard in years—soft, disbelieving, filled with both sorrow and joy.

"I always knew…" she whispered.

"I never gave up. N-Not truly. Not in my heart... Even when they told me to move on. Even when they said it was hopeless…"

She clutched the pendant she had worn since the day of his disappearance—a crystal locket with no image inside, only a trace of warmth, of memory.

"I will find you," she whispered into the night, her voice steadying, her eyes glowing for the first time in years.

"No matter where you are… no matter what you've become…"

Her aura began to shimmer with celestial light, the flowers slowly blooming once more at her feet, awakened by her revitalised spirit.

"I will bring you home… my son."

The garden, once so still, now trembled with the weight of the Empress's awakening heart.

Her sobs came like a wave, collapsing her forward onto her palms as grief and joy warred inside her.

Her shoulders shook, her fingers curling against the earth.

However, everything changed.

A minute after the warmth came… it vanished.

Abruptly.

Snuffed out like a candle in the storm.

Melira gasped.

Her tear-filled eyes widened in sudden horror.

She stood, stumbled, then clutched at her chest again—this time not in joy, but in terror.

"W-What's going on!?"

She spun around, her eyes frantic, her bloodline pulsing with alarms that only a mother could feel.

His lifeforce—it was fading. Flickering. Being pulled. Distorted.

"Why is he in danger!?" she screamed.

The heavens trembled with her voice.

Her aura exploded, flooding the entire sanctuary in an instant.

The trees groaned as their bark withered and peeled away. F

lowers shrivelled into ash. E

ven the stones beneath her cracked under the pressure of her mana.

Gone was the gentle twilight.

The sky above turned dark—too dark—as if swallowing the light.

"No no no no no—don't you dare take him away again!" she wailed.

Her fingers reached for something that wasn't there.

Her knees gave out again, but she caught herself.

She had just felt him.

She had felt her son alive.

And now… he was slipping.

Her mind spiralled into the memory of his cries when he was born.

The way he gripped her finger with his tiny hand.

The way she whispered promises into his ears when he slept.

"I won't let this world hurt you… I'll protect you no matter what."

And now—now she felt his soul screaming through the bloodline.

Not with words, but with the silent agony only a mother could hear.

"I-Is my son in danger!?" she cried, her voice breaking into near-hysterics. "W-Where is he!? WHERE IS HE!?"

The entirety of the palace shuddered.

Walls cracked.

Windows exploded inward.

The very ground beneath her trembled with dread.

Servants collapsed to their knees, choking on the suffocating aura.

Knights fell back, shouting in panic.

Archmages scrambled to erect barriers around the Empress's chamber, but it was like trying to stop a tidal wave with bare hands.

Melira's aura was turning black.

An ancient power, forbidden and sealed for generations, began to stir within her blood.

A red gleam shone through her irises.

Claws began forming over her fingers.

Scales shimmered along her arms.

Her wings—wings of an ancient dragon—began to unfurl from her back, blotting out the remains of the twilight sky.

She was transforming.

A primal, final phase—only ever reached once before in recorded history.

A transformation that rivalled the end of the world itself.

And all because of a single truth.

Her child was alive.

And now, he was in danger.

"Who…" she growled, her voice trembling with wrath that could tear nations apart, "dares… to harm my child…?"

The ground quaked.

Lightning cracked across the palace dome.

"I will reduce this world to ashes before I let him be taken again!!"

Her roar tore through the skies.

Just then—

Crash!

The gates shattered open.

A dozen armoured knights and women in shimmering maid uniforms stormed into the palace garden.

"WHO DARES INVADE THE RESTING PLACE OF THE EMPRESS!?" roared a voice.

It was Luke, the captain of the Twilight Knights, flanked by the elite order.

Behind them, the Sacred Valkyries—maidens clad in divine armour, each one capable of laying waste to islands—stood ready for battle.

They had all sensed it—the power—and feared the worst.

But when their eyes met the Empress's form, glowing with devastating magic, they froze.

"No… It's not an intruder…"

"It's the Empress…"

All at once, every single one of them dropped to their knees.

"Your Empress," Luke stammered, his voice shaking. "F-Forgive us—we thought the palace was under attack."

Melira turned slowly.

Her eyes, though glowing with draconic energy, glistened with unending grief.

"Luke," she said, her voice far quieter than they expected, yet so heavy with meaning that it silenced the very air.

Luke's heart skipped a beat. It was the first time she had spoken his name in five years.

"Y-Yes, Your Majesty…?"

She stepped forward, her aura simmering but still volatile.

"Five years ago… the day I gave birth to my son… the day we lost him to the Zero Organisation… We all searched. Every forest, every ruin… We tried… but in the end, we found nothing. We assumed him… dead."

Luke swallowed hard. "That's… correct."

A heavy silence fell.

Then she looked at him—looked at him—with eyes full of endless sorrow and guilt.

"Then why now…? Why can I sense his lifeforce again…? Why—after all this time—now, when I can do nothing to reach him!?"

Her voice cracked.

And for the first time in five years… her shoulders slumped.

It was not the Empress who stood there anymore, but a mother—wounded, desperate, and full of questions no one could answer.

She clenched her fists.

"If he's alive… then why didn't I find him…?"

No one could speak.

Not even the wind dared whisper.