"If not for him, I would slaughter you and watch you bleed until the very last drop left your cold, filthy body..." Rosalia held Agnia entirely at her mercy, her tight grip wrapped around her throat.

Rosalia knew Max needed Agnia alive to establish his dominance over the region and unify the people who had been scattered.

The progenitor had thrown the kingdom into confusion. It was as if an ancient god had risen again to punish them for their sins.

Children and mothers wept, while the men in the fields and mountains looked toward the castle with fear, worry, and the desperate hope that their queen would appear.

Yet to their despair, she would never appear as their queen again. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

Agnia thrashed in Rosalia’s grip, her gaze spewing venom. "Just kill me then. I will never be anyone’s slave. I am—a proud, noble dragoness—"

A loud slap rang through the hall. A crimson imprint of Rosalia’s palm flared across Agnia’s delicate face.

"You’re nothing but trash from now on..." Rosalia spoke in a cold, dangerous tone, every single word making the blood in the Fire Dragon Queen’s veins run cold. Those purple eyes tore into her soul, freezing it from within.

For only the second time in her life, Agnia felt fear, a crushing terror she had first known on the day she met Max.

Rosalia’s grip around Agnia’s throat loosened with visible reluctance, allowing her to crumple to the ground in a fit of violent gasps, one hand clawing desperately at her neck as if she could tear away the lingering feeling of death still wrapped around it.

Rosalia lifted her gaze and looked around.

Everything was in ruins.

They had come here today to seize the kingdom for its power, yet what they had gained was devastation so severe it would not be repaired in less than two weeks, perhaps even longer. Walls had been torn open, stone shattered and blackened, the earth itself split apart like a wound too deep to ever fully close. The air still carried the scent of scorched blood, burnt mana, and dust.

"Don’t you dare move an inch." Her voice came out cold and absolute.

Purple flames roared to life at once, wrapping around Agnia’s wrists with savage heat, while ice spread over them in the next breath, hardening into chains fit for a prisoner before pinning her to the ground. Fire and frost bound her together, as if even the elements had agreed she no longer deserved freedom.

Rosalia sat down next to Max, keeping a watchful eye on Agnia so she would not dare attempt to flee. More than anything, she wanted Max to wake up. His next command would decide the proud queen’s fate.

Time passed with unbearable slowness.

Before long, citizens from the neighboring provinces began to flood toward the capital. Merchants, farmers, wandering scholars, and ordinary families came in growing numbers, drawn by panic, confusion, and the desperate hope that the royal warriors would still be there to protect them.

Instead, they were met with a nightmare.

Thousands of dragon warriors lay scattered across the ruined land, their bodies reverted to humanoid form, twisted and broken inside craters, trenches, and collapsed stone. Some still drew shallow breaths, especially those who had been farther from the split earth where the progenitor had emerged, but even they looked more like corpses waiting to realize they were still alive.

Those caught near the impact zone had fared far worse.

There were no bodies left for some of them, only smeared bloodmarks forever embedded into the dry ground and shattered stone, as if their lives had been erased in an instant and all that remained was a red stain to prove they had once existed at all.

It had been five hours since the battle ended. The castle was now surrounded by people, all waiting for their queen to step out, if she was still alive. Their shouts were met with nothing but silence. A few tried to fly up, only to be struck down by purple ice flames as a warning, sending them crashing back to the ground. Their faces fell as a heavy dread settled over them like a curse.

Max finally stirred, making both Rosalia and Agnia lift their heads at once. Even the ancestral beast showed signs of waking, as if it and Max were bound by some unseen connection.

His eyelids felt unbearably heavy, as though he were trying to force open the gates of hell itself, only to let a thin sliver of light into his vision. Every muscle in his body screamed in pain. Even breathing burned, dragging a low groan from his lips.

"Are you okay?" Rosalia reacted quickly, taking his firm hand into hers.

"Yeah... just exhausted." His eyes slowly adjusted, taking in his surroundings. The large throne stood in the middle, and beside it Agnia remained chained by ice, her eyes not daring to meet his. "I see we’re alive," Max let out a dark laugh. "Where did that creature go?" he asked, his expression turning grim.

"I don’t know. It flew off into the far distance... toward the human lands." Rosalia helped him up, holding him steady as he struggled to remain on his feet. The blood had already dried, leaving long streaks beneath his eyes and nose.

He drew in a hot breath, only to feel how thin and barren the mana in the surroundings had become. He knew it would take time to restore this land to anything resembling its former glory, and even longer to raise the quality of its mana. His tongue clicked the moment his gaze fell on Agnia.

"That was your doing, wasn’t it?" He took a step forward, nearly stumbling. The dragon progenitor was a challenge he had not been ready for, and for that, he blamed her. "You—" Max’s palm lit up with a small black vortex.

[Danger! Killing the woman before you will forever cut off your chance of obtaining the Fire Dragon bloodline...]

The system screen manifested before his eyes, making his rage boil even harder. He wanted to kill Agnia. He truly wanted to end her right there and then. Facing the upcoming army would be suicide, and it was all because she had chosen to lose everything in one final, catastrophic blaze, ruining his plans in the process.

He clenched the vortex tighter, clicking his tongue in frustration. Black mist wrapped around his fist like a glove, thickening and swelling into a far larger mass. Cursing himself, he swung and unleashed the strike on Agnia.