Chapter 241: Rakshasa’s Answer

There was a very practical reason why Yu Seol-Ha lived in isolation.

It was not because Rakshasa hated company, although she had little tolerance for most people.

Nor was it because she needed to hide, since there were very few creatures in the world capable of forcing her to do anything.

The problem was her personality.

Yu Seol-Ha had never learned how to live halfway.

When she trained, she trained until she destroyed her own body.

When she taught, she demanded that her disciples reach their limits.

When she cared about someone, she became intensely protective.

When she hated, the idea of moderation simply disappeared.

Her patience had always been short, and thousands of years of absolute power had done little to develop self-control whenever something truly managed to pierce her emotional defenses.

That was why her castle remained isolated.

That was why she kept few servants.

That was why she rarely participated in the Kingdom’s political disputes.

The distance between Rakshasa and the rest of the world did not merely protect her peace.

It protected the world from her.

When she received word that Victor had survived the explosion but fallen into a coma after spending practically all of his energy protecting the guests, Yu Seol-Ha did not ask where he was being treated.

She did not ask how long it would take him to wake.

She did not wait for the report about the magic circle, the stolen painting, or the infiltration.

She simply remained silent for several seconds.

Then she left.

Serafall still tried to call after her.

Chysis realized too late.

By the time someone finally decided it might be a good idea to stop Rakshasa from doing something stupid, the vampire had already crossed dozens of kilometers, flying directly toward the Werewolf Realm.

Now, several hours later, the consequences of that decision were about to appear.

A large lupine city stretched beneath her.

It was one of the main urban strongholds near the inner regions of the Realm, surrounded by enormous stone walls and protected by towers built to withstand vampire attacks.

Tens of thousands of people lived there.

Soldiers.

Merchants.

Families.

Military barracks.

Temples dedicated to natural spirits.

And massive structures where warriors trained from youth.

Rakshasa hovered above all of it.

Alone.

The wind whipped through her hair, still partially dirty with dust from the explosion.

Part of the dress she had worn to the ball was torn, and black burn marks stained the fabric.

The jewel Victor had given her remained intact around her neck.

She touched the bloodstone with two fingers.

Thought of him unconscious.

Thought of the palace disappearing.

Thought of the infiltrating werewolves.

Then she looked down at the city.

The little rationality that remained vanished.

Rakshasa filled her lungs.

Her voice crossed the entire city.

"I’M GOING TO DESTROY THIS ENTIRE FILTHY RACE!"

People in the streets stopped.

Soldiers raised their heads.

Alarms began to sound.

"HIDE IF YOU CAN!"

The pressure released by her descended over the city like a mountain.

Glass shattered.

Some werewolves immediately fell to their knees.

"BECAUSE THERE WON’T BE ANYONE LEFT!"

Blood began escaping from the bodies of those closest to her.

Rakshasa spread her arms.

"NOT WOMEN!"

The sky turned red.

"NOT CHILDREN!"

Then she attacked.

The first wave of blood passed through the wall as though the stone did not exist.

Hundreds of meters of fortification simply broke apart, along with the warriors occupying the towers.

Before any defensive formation could be organized, Rakshasa dropped into the center of the city.

The impact opened a crater.

The surrounding streets disappeared.

Soldiers rushed toward her from every direction, some already fully transformed, others wielding weapons covered in natural energy.

Rakshasa did not draw Asura immediately.

She did not need to.

She closed her hand.

The blood inside the first warriors stopped.

Nearly fifty werewolves froze at the same time.

Then their bodies were crushed by their own circulation.

Rakshasa kept walking.

"Victor is in a coma."

A commander charged her.

She grabbed his face with one hand.

"Because you decided to play games."

The man tried to bite her arm.

Rakshasa slammed his head into the ground.

The street caved in.

"So now I’m going to play too."

Asura appeared in her hand.

The blood sword did not look especially large or ornate.

It was simple, elegant, and dark, with that color somewhere between deep red and black that made the space around the blade itself seem wrong.

Rakshasa took one step.

A single slash crossed six city blocks.

Buildings, barricades, and warriors were split along its path.

The wave continued until it reached one of the inner towers and cut straight through it.

The structure began to fall.

Rakshasa did not even look.

Another military formation appeared on the main avenue.

Hundreds this time.

Stronger warriors.

Some possessed complete transformations.

One of them roared an order.

"KILL HER!"

Rakshasa smiled.

"Finally."

She disappeared.

The first werewolf lost both arms before realizing she had approached.

The second was struck in the chest and sent through three buildings.

The third tried to restrain her with natural energy, but Rakshasa tore through the technique with Asura and continued advancing.

After that, there was no formation.

The street became a massacre.

Rakshasa went through everything.

Attacks could not keep up with her.

Defenses could not endure.

Warriors who tried to flee were dragged back toward her by their own blood.

Those who hid inside buildings were found by her perception.

Some tried to abandon the city through underground tunnels.

She felt them.

Asura descended.

The ground split open for kilometers.

There was no strategy in that battle.

There was no military objective.

There was only rage.

A rage so complete that Yu Seol-Ha no longer distinguished soldier from civilian, guilty from innocent, or participant in the conspiracy from someone who did not even know the attack on the Royal Palace had happened.

The entire city had become the target.

And she was too strong for anyone to stop her.

When the city’s first great masters finally arrived, they discovered that in the worst possible way.

Five ancient werewolves surrounded Rakshasa simultaneously, each with centuries of experience and bodies refined by natural energy.

One managed to strike her shoulder.

It was the greatest success achieved that night.

Rakshasa looked at the small mark left on her skin.

Then at him.

"Good."

The man stepped back.

"Now try again."

He did not get the chance.

Asura pierced his chest.

Rakshasa twisted the blade, and a storm of blood spread across the square, knocking down the other four.

One of them still tried to negotiate.

"Wait! We know nothing about this attack!"

Rakshasa stopped.

For one second, it seemed as though she had listened.

"You don’t?"

"No! This city received no orders! If some faction attacked the Valentines, it wasn’t us!"

Rakshasa looked at him.

Her expression remained completely empty.

"Your problem."

The sword passed.

She continued.

Hours were unnecessary.

Minutes were enough.

When Rakshasa finally slowed down, the great city that had stood there was gone beneath blood, ruins, and silence.

The walls were destroyed.

The towers had fallen.

Entire streets had been split open by the force of her blows.

The blood of the dead had collected in several lower areas, forming red pools between broken stones.

Rakshasa walked through the middle of it.

Asura rested on her shoulder.

Her face was covered in both dried and fresh blood.

Several drops had run through her hair.

The dark dress had practically lost its original appearance.

She took a deep breath.

"Haaah..."

The rage had lessened.

It had not disappeared.

But it had lessened enough for her to finally think again.

That was when she heard breathing.

Rakshasa turned her head.

One werewolf was still alive.

Young.

A soldier who had lost his weapon at some point and now remained leaning against the remains of a wall, completely unable to move his legs.

He stared at Rakshasa.

There was no courage in his face.

No hatred.

Only fear.

Rakshasa walked toward him.

The man tried to drag himself away.

"No."

He stopped immediately.

Rakshasa stood in front of him.

"You’re going to live."

The werewolf looked around.

He seemed unable to understand why.

She lowered Asura.

"Go to your King."

He kept staring.

"And tell him he started a war when he attacked the Valentines."

Her voice was calm now.

That made everything worse.

"Tell him Yu Seol-Ha came personally to deliver the answer."

The man was trembling so badly he could barely support his own body.

Rakshasa noticed a stain spreading across his clothes.

She wrinkled her nose.

He had pissed himself.

"Disgusting."

The werewolf lowered his head.

Rakshasa tasted metal in her mouth and spat blood onto the ground beside him.

"Get up when you can."

She turned her back.

"And run."

Asura disappeared.

Rakshasa bent her legs and launched herself off the ground with enough force to open another crater beneath her feet.

Her body tore through the sky and disappeared toward vampire territory.

The survivor remained seated.

For a long time.

Until he finally managed to cry.

...

The news reached Fenrir’s Palace shortly afterward.

The Werewolf King stood at the center of a large war room when the doors were violently thrown open.

Several commanders turned.

A messenger entered, nearly stumbling.

Fenrir stood before an enormous table covered with maps of the borders.

His body was large even without transformation, dark hair streaked with gray fell over his shoulders, and old scars covered part of his arms.

He looked at the messenger.

"What happened?"

The man breathed.

Tried to speak.

His voice failed.

Fenrir frowned.

"Speak."

"The city of Vargan..."

One of the generals stood.

"What happened to Vargan?"

The messenger went pale.

"It’s gone."

No one understood.

Fenrir approached.

"Explain."

"It was attacked."

"By how many?"

The messenger did not answer immediately.

Fenrir lost patience.

"HOW MANY?"

"One."

Silence.

Fenrir narrowed his eyes.

"One what?"

"One person."

The commanders looked at each other.

Someone let out a nervous laugh.

"You’re saying one person took Vargan?"

The messenger shook his head.

"Didn’t take it."

He swallowed.

"Destroyed it."

Fenrir went still.

"Name."

The man took a deep breath.

"Yu Seol-Ha."

That changed the entire room.

Some of the older warriors immediately stopped speaking.

Fenrir kept staring at the messenger.

"How many dead?"

The man lowered his head.

"Practically everyone, my lord."

The King’s jaw locked.

"And those responsible for the defense?"

"Dead."

"The masters?"

"Dead."

"Evacuation?"

The messenger closed his eyes.

"There was no time."

Fenrir remained silent for several seconds.

Then asked:

"Why?"

The messenger looked up.

"There was one survivor."

"One?"

"She left one."

Fenrir already understood what that meant.

It was not mercy.

It was a message.

"What did she tell him to say?"

The man hesitated.

"That we started a war by attacking the Valentines."

Fenrir did not move.

"And that Yu Seol-Ha came personally to deliver the answer."

The entire room remained silent.

Fenrir slowly looked down at the maps on the table.

Then closed his eyes.

"Who..."

His voice came out low.

"Who was the idiot who attacked the Valentines without my authorization?! THAT WASN’T THE PLAN!"

No one answered.

Fenrir opened his eyes.

The natural energy around him began to rise.

The walls trembled.

"FIND OUT."

One of the commanders immediately stood.

"Your Majesty—"

"NOW!"