The Demon of The North-Chapter 136 - 135. The Emperor and Her Empress

With Roxanne’s demon magic and Vivianne’s spirit power, the trip to the Borough Viscounty took less than a day. They cut through the sky like a streak of lightning and moonlight, and when they finally descended onto the port, Roxanne landed with a heavy, echoing thud, while Vivianne held securely in her arms.

The viscount, one of Duke Gerhard’s men, had only ever seen the emperor and empress in the illustrated portraits circulated throughout the empire. Seeing them now, in the flesh, is nothing short of overwhelming.

The new emperor radiated a clear dominating aura, an alpha whose presence alone seemed to bend the air around her. She’s striking, her beauty powerful and sharp, her demeanor calm and unbothered. Her features are softer than the illustration he had studied months ago, but her crimson eyes are more terrifying, piercing, and unblinking, as if they could strip lies straight from the soul. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

And beside her stood the most breathtaking omega he had ever laid eyes upon. Silver hair that shimmered like frost in sunlight. Light violet eyes, delicate yet commanding. The rumors of the empress’s beauty suddenly felt inadequate; no gossip could capture the real thing.

As soon as they landed, everyone dropped to their knees in an instinctive wave of reverence.

"Raise," Roxanne ordered, her voice cool and steady.

Mara stepped forward immediately, stopping just behind Roxanne to deliver her report. At the same time, Marvessa appeared almost soundlessly, positioning herself near the empress like a shadow. Vivianne’s lips curved into a soft smile at the sight of her.

"Good job, Marvessa," Vivianne said gently. The simple praise lit a spark of pride in Marvessa’s chest; being acknowledged by the empress is worth more than any medal.

Roxanne’s gaze drifted toward the sea. Two fleets remained anchored twenty miles from shore, faint outlines against the horizon. She hadn’t spoken a word yet when Vivianne lifted her hand, seamlessly channeling the power of her spirits.

The air shimmered around them as Vivianne shared the spirits’ sight—an ethereal lens that pierced the distance and slid through the very walls of the foreign fleets. The spirits drifted through cramped decks and shadowed corridors, revealing elves slumped in fatigue and humans pale with nausea, all weakened by days of enduring Kaelindor’s pure mana. It had already been three days since Mara forced them to stop mooring any closer.

"Have you seen another ship?" Roxanne asked, her gaze still fixed on the horizon.

"No, not yet," Mara replied. "But they told us several ships from Calonia were following their fleets before they reached our waters."

"Keep watching." Roxanne’s tone sharpened, already shifting into decisive command. She unfurled her majestic demon wings, preparing to fly. "I’ll speak to them myself."

But something tugged at her mind. "Tell me—can they speak our language?"

"Oh, no," Mara said, smirking faintly. "But those of us with demon blood can understand any tongue. And Marvessa’s spirits have been translating for us. It’s how we can speak to them so smoothly."

Roxanne nodded slowly. She kept forgetting demons could speak the ancient language, the root tongue beneath all others. And with demon blood running through her veins, it’s hers to wield as well.

Without further hesitation, she slid an arm beneath Vivianne, lifting her effortlessly. Vivianne wrapped her hands around Roxanne’s shoulders, her expression calm but watchful.

Roxanne leapt skyward in a surge of mana, the wind cracking behind her. Several Borgia knights followed, those whose demon lineage granted them wings and the instinct to protect their emperor in the sky. Only Mara remained on the shore, her stance grounded, with other Borgia and Borough’s knights.

Above them, the sky glowed with the muted colors of evening. The sea stretched wide and endless, and the two fleets waited like silent giants, suspended in forbidden waters.

Roxanne tightened her hold on Vivianne as they ascended, crimson eyes burning with purpose. "Let’s go," she murmured, wings of magic beating harder.

-

The first ship Roxanne approached is the elven vessel. She hovered for a breath, wings of raw magic shimmering faintly around her, before dropping onto the deck with a heavy thud that made the planks creak. Every elf aboard froze.

Two figures stood before them, and for a heartbeat the elves forgot how to breathe. They had expected barbarians.

Every tale, every warning, every rumor that drifted across the Storm Belt painted Kaelindor as a savage land, untamed, wild, ruled by brute strength instead of refinement. A place where warriors tore flesh with their bare hands, where demons roamed freely, and where no civilized race could ever thrive.

So when the light split the sky and two figures descended toward their halted fleet, every elf aboard the main ship tensed, hands reaching for weapons, magic humming at their cores. But nothing prepared them for what they saw next.

The first figure touched down with a weight that made the planks groan, yet she carried herself with the grace of someone born to be obeyed. The elves stared, breath catching. She is beautiful. Striking. Lethal. A female alpha whose presence radiated like a blade drawn from its sheath—cold, sharp, and impossible to look away from.

Her hair is dark as obsidian, her crimson eyes gleamed like rubies under sunlight, and her expression carried the indifference of a warrior who had seen gods bleed. Every step she took pressed onto the deck with confidence, as though the ship itself bowed beneath her.

And then, their breath truly faltered.

In her arms stood the second figure. She’s a vision the elves would later argue about, uncertain whether she’s real or merely an illusion conjured by exhaustion. Silver hair cascaded like moonlit silk, catching the breeze with a shimmer too soft, too ethereal to belong to a land of savages.

Her eyes, light purple and luminous, held a serenity that felt sacred, almost divine. She smiled slightly, and the deck of hardened elven warriors fell painfully silent.

"Beautiful" isn’t a strong enough word. Delicate also didn’t suit her, because beneath the grace the elves sensed power coiled like a waiting tide. She isn’t just an omega. She’s power cloaked in gentleness.

"The emperor and the empress of the Borgia Empire," Maxwell announced, voice ringing across the deck, "rulers of the Kaelindor continent."

Behind them, four figures with vast black wings descended in unison. Their arrival stirred the air into a violent gust, whipping the waves into sprays of white foam.

The knights behind them landed one by one, wings folding, boots striking wood with enough force to rattle the entire ship. Their presence is overwhelming; the mana they carried bled into the air, thick and sharp, making the elves’ bones hum in a painful vibration.

But for all the terrifying pressure of the knights, nothing commanded more awe or fear than the two standing at the front.

They realized it now that the people in this continent, the biggest one, aren’t just barbarians. They’re the apex predators, silent, controlled, and utterly terrifying in their stillness.

The elves exchanged uneasy glances.

The Calonians who ravaged their continent had been brutal and merciless, but they lacked finesse and lacked awareness. They were creatures of force. But the emperor and empress of Kaelindor are something else entirely.

Perfect beauty paired with unimaginable strength. Serenity paired with a lethal aura. The elven commander swallowed, throat dry, knowing very well when they saw a powerful people after the last invasion.

For them it is now painfully clear. If these two wished, they could destroy the Calonian invaders in ways the elves could not even comprehend. And if these two ever turned their strength toward Aerthysia, there would be no continent left to defend.

A shiver traveled through the elven ranks, not only fear but also awe. The air around them felt charged, trembling beneath the weight of the two figures who had descended upon their deck.

"What are you doing here?" Roxanne’s voice cut cleanly through the silence, sharp as a blade. "Coming to my continent without permission? Are you even aware that your bodies cannot withstand our mana?"

Her crimson eyes swept over them, and every elf felt as if she saw straight through their ribs, through their pride, and through their ancient histories.

"This land," Vivianne added softly, though her voice held a chill that stilled the elves where they stood, "where spirits can manifest freely, was never meant for you."

Her beauty is ethereal, terrifying in its serenity. An omega so lovely she made even the elven maidens look plain, yet there was nothing fragile about her presence. She is the calm before the storm, divine, deliberate, and impossibly powerful.

One of the high elves stepped forward, expression tightening. He’s proud, too proud, his chin angled upward as though Kaelindor’s sky somehow belonged to him. "Your claims contradict our ancient tomes," he began stiffly. "In foreign lands, spirits cannot manifest, only linger, only whisper. Your land should be no different. That is what our Tree of Life teaches."

Vivianne tilted her head, almost pitying. "Then look," she murmured.

She lifted her hand, fingers curling gracefully. The air rippled, then tore open in a sweeping arc. The veil between the mortal world and the spirit realm thinned, then vanished entirely.

Gasps erupted across the deck.

Four colossal figures materialized behind Vivianne, towering and radiantly alive. Tempest’s electric winds crackled across the planks; Terranova’s presence pressed like the weight of ancient mountains; Afrit’s flames coiled, heat simmering though no fire touched the wood; and Undine’s waters spiraled in fluid ribbons that never spilled a drop.

Behind them, hundreds, even thousands, of spirits fill the land of Kaelindor. Those are not echoes. Not silhouettes. Not vague impressions.

The spirits are fully manifested, solid, sovereign, and breathtaking.

"This," Vivianne said, her voice carrying like a hymn and a warning all at once, "is the land of Kaelindor. The Borgia Empire. A continent where spirits roam freely, where their forms are complete, where mana flows pure and unbound."

Roxanne glanced at her with a spark of pride lighting her eyes. The elves, meanwhile, were struck silent. Their precious Tree of Life, revered, ancient, and beloved, could barely hold a spirit’s shadow. Their strongest priests required elaborate rites just to glimpse what stood plainly, easily, before them now.

Their continent suddenly felt small. Weak and half-formed.

Vivianne stepped forward, her expression gentle, yet undeniably superior. "This land is not governed by borrowed mana. It is not cradled by a single tree. It breathes, it grows, and it feeds every being born upon it with power far beyond what your bodies were crafted to endure."

Roxanne folded her arms, wings of demonic power unfurling just enough for the elves to feel the tremor of her aura. "Now, tell me again, what’s your purpose here?"