I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 188: Protect her

The explosion hit like thunder laced with fire.

The corridor around them shuddered, ancient stone groaning as if the very bones of the palace had been struck.

The stained-glass windows lining the archway shattered inward in a chorus of crystalline screams—jagged shards slicing through the air like knives hurled by gods.

Malvoria didn’t think.

She moved.

She yanked Elysia against her with a force born from instinct, wrapping both arms around her and turning, shielding her body with her own just as the glass came crashing down.

Shards struck her back, slicing through her coat. Pain flared along her shoulders, her spine. She hissed, low and sharp, but didn’t flinch.

Elysia was pressed against her chest, wide-eyed, breathless, her fingers digging into the fabric of Malvoria’s suit.

The box the small velvet-wrapped gift had fallen to the floor during the chaos. It lay abandoned now near the broken arch, half-covered in debris and flickering shadows.

Later, Malvoria thought, marking its location with surgical precision. I’ll come back for it later. First, Elysia.

The acrid scent of smoke stung her nose. Screams echoed from below—real, panicked, and far too many to ignore. The music had stopped. The laughter was gone.

She released Elysia just enough to grab her wrist firmly.

"Stay close!" she barked.

Elysia nodded, her mouth set in a grim, terrified line, but she didn’t falter.

Malvoria led them at a run through the corridor, skidding past shattered frames and jagged stone.

They reached the carved balcony that overlooked the banquet hall—and Malvoria’s breath caught in her throat.

Below them, the grand chamber was burning.

Flames licked up the velvet drapery, crackling over wine-stained linens and collapsed tables. The great chandelier had fallen, its enchanted crystals shattered and smoldering.

Nobles screamed as they scrambled for cover behind toppled columns. Guards clashed steel against steel, blades singing against each other in the heat of battle.

And worse—human rebels.

Dozens of them.

Armored in mismatched leathers, but moving in frightening sync. They weren’t raiders or desperate peasants—they were trained. Disciplined.

Coordinated. Some moved in tactical formations, herding nobles toward exits like cattle. Others swept forward with explosive devices, smoke bombs, and blades meant for slaughter.

They planned this.

They studied us.

Malvoria’s pulse thundered.

This wasn’t rebellion.

This was war.

"Malvoria," Elysia gasped, clutching her arm, "look!"

She followed Elysia’s gaze and saw it—a small group of rebels breaking through the side entrance, making a direct line toward the thrones.

Toward Elysia.

A scream tore through Malvoria’s chest before it could form words. Her body moved before her mind caught up—drawing the ceremonial blade at her side and gripping it like a promise.

"Elysia," she said, her voice hard and low, "we need to move. Now."

Another explosion—closer this time.

The floor shuddered.

Cracks spiderwebbed across the marble beneath their feet.

And then, with a deep, terrifying groan—

The ground gave way.

It wasn’t a collapse. It was an unmaking.

One moment they were standing on the edge of the balcony.

The next, the entire corridor beneath their feet crumbled into darkness.

Stone and fire and bodies fell together.

Malvoria’s last thought before gravity claimed her was a single, furious command:

Protect her.

Elysia’s expression changed in an instant, confusion, realization, terror as the stone beneath them gave way.

She reached out, as if she could stop the collapse with her bare hands, but gravity snatched her faster than thought.

"Elysia!" Malvoria shouted, lunging forward.

For a split second, the world tilted sideways—stone, firelight, shouts, and screams blurred into a spinning void. Dust and debris fell with them in an avalanche of noise.

And then—

Malvoria caught her.

Mid-fall, she wrapped one arm around Elysia’s waist, pulling her tight, the other arm bracing them against the crush of stone and shrapnel.

She twisted their bodies midair, forcing herself beneath the falling weight to take the brunt of the impact.

They hit hard.

The lower corridor wasn’t much more than a half-buried hallway, cracked stone and shattered pillars surrounding them like broken teeth.

Elysia gasped as she struck the floor, the breath knocked out of her, but Malvoria was already moving.

Pain flared in her side, but she ignored it.

She rose to her feet in a single breath, unsheathing her sword with a ringing scrape. The crimson runes on the blade flared alive, humming in the smoke-heavy air like a beast waking from slumber.

The hallway reeked of scorched plaster and blood. Above them, fire crackled in broken beams and fractured ceiling tiles. Somewhere nearby, a distant explosion echoed, followed by a scream.

Malvoria turned just as Elysia coughed, grabbing hold of her sleeve.

"We have to help the others—" Elysia wheezed, trying to sit up.

Before she could finish, Malvoria heard them.

Footsteps.

Fast.

Precise.

Coming closer.

Malvoria pushed Elysia gently behind her, stance tightening like a spring drawn taut.

Three shadows emerged from the smoke—three rebels dressed in black-and-silver leather armor, faces obscured by cloth masks, swords already drawn.

They saw her.

And hesitated.

One muttered something to the others, voice clipped with shock.

"That’s her."

Malvoria didn’t give them a second chance to speak.

She lunged.

Her sword moved like a storm elegant and brutal. The first rebel raised his blade in defense, but it was too late.

Malvoria’s slash carved through the air, deflecting his strike and slamming the flat of her sword into his ribs with bone-cracking force.

He dropped.

The second charged, faster, smarter but she was faster still.

Steel rang. Sparks flared.

Malvoria pivoted, sidestepped, and drove the hilt of her sword into the side of his neck.

He choked, dropped to one knee.

She didn’t stop.

The third screamed and raised a flame-dagger enchanted, bright as molten metal. Malvoria narrowed her eyes, darted forward in a blink, and disarmed him with a twist of her wrist and a brutal kick to the leg.

He crumpled.

Silence returned to the hall, heavy with smoke.

Malvoria exhaled.

Three rebels. One breath.

Behind her, Elysia was rising to her feet.

The fire above them creaked. The palace was still breaking. But for now, they had survived the fall.

And the fight?

It was just beginning.