CHAPTER 38: CHAPTER 37. AWAKE IN THE MIDDLE OF CHAOS

Anton rushed into the chamber, his heart pounding, desperately hoping that the Grand Duchess is unharmed. His boots splashed through pools of blood as he ran, his two teenage children close on his heels.

And from the balcony, a few of the Borgia’s knights burst into the room to make sure there were no more assassins hiding. When they burst into the room, the scene before them was both shocking and strangely surreal.

At the center of the chamber, surrounded by chaos and destruction, lay the Grand Duchess, peacefully asleep on the bed inside a shimmering watery cocoon created by Undine. The translucent barrier pulsed faintly with life, its surface rippling like the calm of a moonlit lake, keeping Vivianne completely untouched by the battle raging around her.

Roxanne, however, stood tall and terrifying in the middle of the room. She’s in her full demonic form, her body a blend of demon and alpha werewolf traits. Jagged horns curved from her head, her massive black wings spread wide, and her crimson eyes glowed like molten lava. Her claws dripped with the blood of those foolish enough to challenge her. She’s a vision of raw, destructive power, the living embodiment of nightmares.

Anton stopped dead in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat. He swallowed hard, torn between fear and awe. Even knowing Roxanne’s reputation, seeing her like this, unleashed and untamed, is overwhelming. No wonder they call her the walking nightmare of the North, he thought, his chest tightening.

Nearby, Mara is standing with Marvessa in her arms and still in her beastman form, her white tiger fur streaked with black stripes now matted with blood. Her usually fierce, intimidating presence seemed almost calm in this moment.

Marvessa stayed still in her arms, wide-eyed and feeling confused, but her hands moved gently as she stroked Mara’s thick fur. She looked utterly fascinated, running her fingers over the soft coat again and again, even brushing over the sharp, obsidian-colored demon horns protruding from Mara’s head.

What stunned everyone most, however, isn’t Marvessa’s boldness but Mara’s reaction. Normally, Mara was always extremely protective of her fur. She would snarl, snap, and even lash out violently if anyone dared to touch her after she shifted.

But now, she simply stayed still there, tail flicking lazily, allowing Marvessa to do as she pleased. She didn’t growl, didn’t glare, she just let it happen. The knights exchanged bewildered glances, unsure what to make of this unusual display.

Then, from within the watery cocoon, there’s a faint pop—like a bubble bursting. Vivianne stirred, her lashes fluttering as she slowly opened her eyes. She blinked, disoriented, and immediately noticed the absence of Roxanne by her side.

Her body is wrapped tightly in a thick, warm fur blanket, cocooning her in comfort while the world around her felt wrong, too quiet, and too heavy. Her gaze lifted to the center of the room, and she froze.

There, standing amidst the wreckage, is a towering demonic figure. The shape is monstrous, yet the glowing crimson eyes are fixed on her with an emotion she recognizes instantly. Roxanne.

Vivianne’s breath caught, her voice trembling. "W-wife?" she choked out, fear lacing her words.

The room is heavy with the metallic scent of blood. The walls and floor were smeared with crimson, and the air itself seemed to hum with violence and rage. Vivianne’s hands tightened around the blanket as panic swelled in her chest. "What... what are you all doing? What happened here?" she asked, her voice shaky, eyes darting between Roxanne, Marvessa, and the others.

Undine twirled gracefully in front of her mistress, her watery form shimmering with light. With a single sweep of her hands, the water surrounding Vivianne surged outward.

It washed over the entire chamber, sweeping away the blood and gore. The red-stained water is forced outside, spilling from the balcony like a waterfall and drenching those below in a chilling mixture of water and blood.

Within seconds, the room is spotless. The scent of blood lingered faintly in the air, but the horrific scene and the damages around it were done. Undine can clean, but she can’t fix what was broken.

Vivianne clutched the blanket tighter, shivering, her wide violet eyes brimming with fear. "W-wife... come to me, please," she whispered.

Her voice cracked, soft and pleading. It isn’t Roxanne’s monstrous form that frightened her; she had long since accepted her wife’s true nature. What terrified her were the eyes of the others in the room, the way they stared at her with shock, fear, and disbelief.

It dragged her back to the nightmares of her past life, when she had been treated as something less than human. When many eyes were staring at him in the darkness, ready to destroy her at any time.

Maxim, one of the Borgia knights, stepped forward, about to speak. He wanted to calm Vivianne, to give Roxanne time to regain her composure. He knew what it meant when the Grand Duke is in her full demonic state: her emotions were volatile, and her thirst for blood is uncontrollable. Normally, it took hours for her to return to her senses.

But before Maxim could say a word, Roxanne moved. Slowly, deliberately, she walked toward Vivianne. Each step is heavy, yet careful, as though she’s afraid of breaking the fragile moment between them. Then, she knelt before her wife, lowering her massive frame to the floor.

Vivianne didn’t hesitate. She threw herself into Roxanne’s arms, clinging to her tightly as though she might disappear. Roxanne wrapped her arms around Vivianne, holding her close, and something inside her shifted.

In that embrace, Roxanne felt Vivianne’s trembling fear and her desperate need for comfort. It’s enough to shatter the haze of bloodlust clouding her mind. Her rampaging instincts recoiled, replaced by a fierce, protective tenderness.

Slowly, Roxanne began to change. The monstrous form melted away as her body reverted to its humanoid shape. Her pale skin returned, her claws shortened, and her great black wings folded and vanished. Even her jagged horns receded, shrinking back into her head until only faint ridges remained.

The room went utterly silent. "Wow," Maxim muttered under his breath, his wide eyes reflecting his astonishment.

The other Borgia knights stood frozen, their mouths slightly open in shock. They had never seen Roxanne return to her senses so quickly. Even Mara stared, her feline ears twitching, unable to believe what she’s witnessing.

"Well, that’s my master alright." Marvessa whispered proudly, still stroking the soft fur that belonged to Mara.

Vivianne buried her face in Roxanne’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent of her wife beneath the lingering tang of blood and magic. For the first time since waking, she felt safe.

Then, another silverish thread shimmered into view, its hue leaning more toward pure white than blue. It drifted closer to Vivianne like a ribbon carried by the wind, pulsing softly with power.

"Oh..." Marvessa’s breath caught, her voice trembling in awe. "That’s Tempest, the Wind Spirit King."

Tempest’s form began to take shape before them, a figure that seemed to be born from the storm itself. His body is a swirling mass of roaring winds and rolling clouds, never still for even a heartbeat. It’s as though he’s the very embodiment of a hurricane, a living tempest given form.

Brilliant arcs of blue lightning crackled and danced across his body, racing through his chest, arms, and shoulders, their glow lighting up the darkness around him. Every flicker of lightning carried a low, thrumming hum that sent shivers through the air, a reminder of the vast and untamed power he held.

His eyes burned like twin storms, glowing with a fierce, electric blue light that seemed to pierce through everything it touched. Around his head and shoulders, wild tendrils of cloud and mist swirled like a crown of eternal gales, giving him the appearance of both a king and a force of nature. When he moved, the air around him trembled, and the sound of howling winds and distant thunder followed in his wake.

Slowly, Tempest extended one hand toward Vivianne. His finger, glowing faintly with streaks of lightning, gently touched her forehead. In an instant, a brilliant mark flared to life on Vivianne’s arm; a second sigil now rested beside Undine’s mark, proof of a second Spirit King’s bond. The air itself seemed to hum in recognition of this new connection.

Tempest’s glowing gaze then shifted to Roxanne. For a moment, his swirling features tightened, forming what looked like a deep frown of disapproval. Without warning, he raised his hand and hurled a bolt of lightning straight at her.

"Hah!" Roxanne barked out a sharp laugh, swatting the lightning aside with a casual flick of her hand. The force dispersed harmlessly into the air with a crackle, the sheer display of power sending a wave of wind rushing through the room.

To the others, who could not see Tempest’s true form, it looked like nothing more than a sudden flash of light arcing from Roxanne’s hand into empty space. Confused whispers rose among the knights, but Marvessa simply chuckled, her eyes glittering with understanding. She could see everything: the Spirit King’s expression, his challenge, and Roxanne’s amused defiance.