CHAPTER 118: CHAPTER 117. THE END OF A REIGN

By the time Dietrich’s death rippled through the empire, the land didn’t echo with a unified lamentation, nor did it rise in any noble display of sorrow; instead, it fractured beneath the sudden absence of the one alpha whose oppressive dominance had held the realm together through fear and cruelty and corrupt nobles who were allowed to run rampant.

Among the common people, the news arrived as a suffocating silence, washing over marketplace stalls, narrow alleyways, and clustered homes until even the air felt strangely hollow. Not the kind of suffocating that is filled with sadness, but more like disorientation and confusion because they lost their alpha ruler.

As if the ground beneath their feet had ceased to hold any future for them, an empire without their alpha leader is nothing. And they have two other races that are strong and ready to devour them at any moment.

With the emperor dead, they now stood on a cliff edge staring at an abyss they were never prepared to face.

Within the ranks of the military, however, the collapse is more violent, though silent on the surface. Countless knights, soldiers, and elite guards, bound by instinct and oath to the emperor’s overwhelming alpha presence, felt the moment their life extinguished like a cord snapping inside their chests, leaving them drifting in a haze of panic and hollowed-out loyalty.

Their unity, once enforced by the sheer pressure of Dietrich’s alpha dominance, unraveled in an instant. Everything cracked at the edges, formations shook, and a legion without its alpha is nothing but a weapon without a hand to guide it, dangerous, unstable, and capable of destroying itself before the enemy even arrives.

The nobles fared no better; Dietrich had ruled them through tyranny and corruption, which made most of the nobles follow him without thinking of rebellion. However, now his body lay lifeless on the marble floor, and his soul, devoured, unraveling, and condemned, left behind a hollow feeling so immense that the halls of power shook.

For a breathless moment, the entire realm hovered on the edge, ready to break apart into chaos.

But then Roxanne rose.

Undine’s magic still wreathed her like a spectral thread of luminous blue weaving across her skin, stitching together flesh that had been flayed to the bone. Some wounds lingered as ghostly impressions and faded bruises. But Dietrich’s brutal handiwork was gone; she looks steady, fierce, and undeniable.

Vivianne stood beside her, a hand pressed to the small of Roxanne’s back, helping her to be steady and to show the empire that Roxanne isn’t standing alone. Beside her is one of the strongest Omegas they’ll fear in the future, the spirit king’s power dealer. And with that touch, they moved as one.

When Roxanne straightened, the world shuddered. Not the way it had been for Dietrich, whose presence had been suffocating around the throats of those beneath him. This feeling is something older, something that resonated in the marrow of every living thing within reach, as if the earth itself remembered what true power looked like.

Her dominance didn’t erupt in a violent surge; it unfolded like a storm gathering at the horizon, inevitable and vast. It rolled outward in an invisible tide, spilling across the ruined throne room, gliding over shattered stone and broken bodies, and curling around the necks of kneeling knights before spilling beyond the palace walls, reaching farther until the entire capital, then the empire itself, felt its weight.

This kind of rule isn’t the jagged, scorching oppression Dietrich had wielded like a blade. This is something purer, deeper.

The pulse of Roxanne’s power is so vast that distant peaks trembled in recognition. Across the empire, soldiers froze mid-step. Nobles reaching for weapons found their fingers numb. Wild beasts, miles away, pressed themselves into the dirt. Even the wind seemed to still, the clouds hanging motionless as though the sky itself were holding its breath.

The power that surges through the land isn’t just dominance but a sovereignty.

And when Roxanne finally released a sound that’s neither howl nor roar but something deeper, something that vibrated in the bones of every living creature, the whole continent bent.

The throne room shuddered. The ground groaned as if the earth itself were shifting to accommodate her will. The sound didn’t shatter those who heard it; it claimed them, pulling their heads down in an instinctive, irrevocable act of submission.

The chaos that had begun in Dietrich’s reign, the greed, and the desperate grabs for power stilled in an instant. Soldiers who had been moments from turning on each person pressed their foreheads to the ground, while nobles who had already begun scheming found their limbs locked in place. Their limbs locked in place. Even the proudest, the most defiant, felt their resistance crumble beneath the weight of her command. Resistance crumbles beneath the weight of her command.

And in that silence, the empire understood: What happened today isn’t just the death of a tyrant, an incompetent alpha. But this is the birth of the alpha whose strength didn’t need cruelty to exist.

For the first time in the empire’s violent history, since the very first alpha united all the werewolf clans on the continent, the earth itself moved and recognized its rightful ruler. The soil trembled beneath Roxanne’s feet, then stilled, as though bowing to a force older than kings, older than fear.

A true alpha had risen.

Shifters and non-shifters alike felt it, not in their minds, but in their bones, in the animal instincts buried in their blood. Even the land, starved under weak rulers, seemed to exhale in relief.

The empire knelt; the throne room, once roaring with battle, fell into a silence so thick it swallowed sound.

Roxanne didn’t shout; when she spoke, her voice rolled loudly, steadily, and unstoppably. "Listen."

The word settled like a weight on every spine. "I am the alpha now. I am the alpha not only for this empire but also for the Beastmen Dominion and the Demon Realm. Everything kneels to me."

Her power swelled. "This land is no longer Erengard." Her voice left no room for doubt. "I carry its royal blood, but I’m a Borgia. My rule stretches beyond borders, beyond kingdoms. From this moment on, the world answers to one name, mine, Roxanne de Borgia."

"Acknowledged me and my Luna, Vivianne de Borgia. Answers!" Roxanne said.

From the shattering remains of the throne room to the furthest stretches of the empire, voices rose, not in confusion, not in rebellion, but in instinctive, primal acknowledgment. The roar that returned to Roxanne isn’t a single sound but a vast, layered chorus of species, realms, and bloodlines answering the authority of a true alpha for the first time since the continent’s earliest age.

The knights of the Borgia, the royal guards, the nobles, and the citizens of the empire bent first, their voices strained as they cried, "We hear and obey, Alpha Roxanne!" Their submission rippled outward like a shockwave.

Fenclade Dominion felt Roxanne’s power next.

Across mountains, forests, and plains, the beastmen stiffened as her dominance rolled through their land like a rising tide. Leonhart smiled from his throne, then made a bow to the power that rippled through the Fenclade dominion, followed by the other beastmen.

Roxanne’s mixed-blood resonance struck like a celestial hammer from the heart of Erevalis, deep within the demon realm where even kings feared nothing but their own hungering power. Ancient demons, the ones who had lived long enough to claim immunity to all authority, felt their spines bow. Horns lowered, wings folded, and primordial instincts reasserted what pride tried to deny.

"Oh, so this is the power of the spirit king’s bearer’s mate." Vyrael Drethar smiled, recognizing the true power. "Your daughter, huh, Ashkareth?"

"My daughter, the continent’s ruler." Ashkareth smiled as he rose from his throne and bowed to the power of Roxanne, followed by Vyrael and the rest of the demons.

A sovereign had risen. One of theirs. One beyond even their oldest bloodlines.

-

As Gerhard and Red stood in the ruined throne hall of the royal palace, the atmosphere remained charged with the heavy imprint of Roxanne’s alpha dominance, a lingering echo that clung to the hall even though the battle for the throne had already concluded. Roxanne, now the undisputed Alpha of the empire, sat upon the throne.

The throne hall had been cleared; Mara and several of the original Borgia knights had already removed Dietrich’s battered and mutilated body, preparing it for burial alongside the emperors of old, not out of honor but out of obligation to tradition.

The corrupt nobles, the ones who had supported Dietrich de Erengard through greed, cruelty, and political rot, cowered on their knees. Though Dietrich’s reign had ended, his sins still hung over the chamber like smoke, demanding a closure.

Gerhard stepped forward, his steps echoing softly across the stone floor. "Your Highness," he said, bowing his head deeply, "the Emperor, the sun of the Borgia Empire. And the empress, the moon of the Borgia empire."

Roxanne shifted, her lips curving into a faint, knowing smirk at the formal address. She sat upon the throne with Vivianne beside her, the Luna’s presence balancing Roxanne’s overwhelming aura. Roxanne inclined her head in acknowledgment. "Duke Eisenwald."

He straightened. "Shall we proceed with the final sweep, Your Highness?" he asked, bowing once more. His words ignited outrage among the kneeling nobles.

"Duke! You traitor!" One shrieked, voice cracking under fear. "You turned against the Emperor—you betrayed your oath—"

"You’re corrupt as well!" another spat, desperation shredding his dignity as he clawed for someone to drag down with him.

Gerhard didn’t flinch. His expression remained stern. "I have never taken from the citizens or the empire," he said coldly. "I executed the orders given to me by the previous emperor and nothing more. If there is suspicion, if there is doubt, then I will submit myself to investigation. I will be examined thoroughly and transparently."

The hall fell silent at his declaration. Even the corrupt nobles faltered, their accusations collapsing beneath the weight of a man willing to be scrutinized. The contrast between him and the weeping, trembling nobles around him is clear; Gerhard stood with dignity, while they flailed like rats trapped under the sun.

Roxanne watched it all from her throne, her posture relaxed yet undeniably regal, Vivianne’s presence reflecting beside her like moonlight on a dark tide. She’s sitting once again at the seat of the empress of the empire, but this time she knows she will be fine.

"Red, execute the order." Roxanne said to Red, her loyal aide.

"Right away, your highness." He smiled, now calling her as the emperor.