Then, the fragmented memories hit her.
She remembered the deafening crash on the stone road. The carriage shattering. And then... the monster in the smoke. A towering titan clad in black, abyssal armor, wearing a dark cloak and a terrifying iron mask with glowing red eyes.
She remembered looking up at that nightmare of a man and using the very last ounce of her strength to whisper a plea for help before the darkness swallowed her.
'Did he... bring me here?' She shifted her massive body, her feathered hooves scraping lightly against the dirt floor, and looked toward the cave entrance.
Her breath hitched in her throat.
There he was. The armored man stood perfectly still, leaning against the cave wall and looking out at the plains. The dim light caught the edge of his midnight-blue cloak, and the crimson glow of his mask cut through the shadows like a beacon.
Pure, instinctual fear gripped her chest. She had escaped the slavers, but had she just fallen into the hands of an even worse demon? What kind of dark entity could rip open an iron carriage with its bare hands?
She scrambled backward, her iron-shod hooves slipping slightly on the stone as she pressed her massive back against the farthest wall of the cave.
"Stay back!" she cried out, her voice raspy from dehydration, but still carrying the natural, booming resonance of her giant lineage. "Who... who are you? What do you want from me?"
Lysander slowly turned his head. He didn't draw his weapons. He didn't move aggressively. He just looked at her calmly.
"Do not be afraid," his deep, mechanically distorted voice echoed through the cavern, steady and commanding.
He took a single, slow step forward so she could see he meant no harm, then stopped.
"You seem to have forgotten your own actions," Lysander continued, his tone flat but not unkind. "Before you lost consciousness on the road, you begged me for help. I simply answered your request"
The Centaur stared at him, her amber eyes wide with disbelief. This terrifying warlord—who looked like a villain from a children's nightmare—had saved her?
"The humans who caged you are dead," Lysander stated plainly, offering her the reassurance of their demise. "I destroyed their cart, killed the drivers, and carried you here. I also treated your wounds. You are safe now"
He tilted his head slightly, studying the massive, beautiful Titaness cowering against the wall.
"Now that you are awake," Lysander asked, crossing his heavy gauntleted arms. "What is your name?"
The Centaur hesitated. She looked at her carefully bandaged wrists, then back up at the glowing red eyes of the mask. The sheer fact that her wounds were treated and her captors were dead slowly broke through her panic.
She took a deep breath, her broad chest rising. She straightened her posture, her innate pride as a warrior of the giant tribe finally surfacing over her fear.
"I... I am Kaelith," she answered, her voice finding its true strength. "Daughter of the Equus Giganteus"
"That is the name of your race," Lysander interrupted smoothly, his mechanically distorted voice cutting through her grand declaration. "According to my knowledge, there are—or at least, there were—many of your kind. Being a daughter of a race tells me nothing. What is your father's name?"
Kaelith's amber eyes flashed with a sudden spark of irritation. Even injured and traumatized, the blood of a giant warrior ran through her veins. She didn't like being interrupted.
"If you would let me finish," Kaelith snapped, her broad chest heaving as she glared at the armored man. She shifted her massive weight, her iron-shod hooves clicking against the stone floor. "I was trying to say... I am Kaelith. The only daughter of Tharros the Earth-Shaker, the Chieftain of the Equus Giganteus tribe"
She lifted her chin, expecting the name of her legendary father to carry weight, even to this terrifying stranger.
Lysander didn't react to the title. Instead, his highly analytical [Cybernetic Mind] caught onto a single, specific word she had used.
He tilted his head slightly, the glowing red eyes of his iron mask narrowing in the dim light.
"You said he was the Chieftain," Lysander pointed out, his tone flat and calculating. "Not is. Why use the past tense, Kaelith? Is your father dead?"
The question hit her like a physical blow.
All the fierce pride that had just flared up in Kaelith's eyes vanished in an instant, replaced by a hollow, crushing grief. Her broad shoulders slumped, and she looked away from Lysander's piercing red gaze, staring down at her bandaged wrists.
"Yes," Kaelith whispered, her booming voice breaking into a ragged sob. "He is dead. They are all dead."
She squeezed her eyes shut, but heavy tears still escaped, rolling down her sun-bronzed cheeks.
"The human armies... the Royal Knights and the Mages of the Capital," she continued, her voice trembling with hatred and sorrow. "They didn't just come to capture us. They came to wipe us out. My father fought the Duke's Vanguard to buy us time to run. He crushed fifty of their armored knights before a High Mage pierced his heart with a siege spell."
She looked back up at Lysander, her expression completely shattered.
"The males of my tribe fought to the last breath. The humans killed them all. They only kept the females alive to sell us as exotic beasts. As far as I know... I am the last of Tharros's bloodline. My tribe is gone"
Lysander stood in silence, listening to the tragic fate of the giant Centaurs. The Human Kingdom hadn't just enslaved her; they had committed a massacre
Lysander listened in silence, the heavy Abyssal Armor absorbing the weight of her words. He looked at the towering Centaur, noting the deep grief etched into her fierce, sun-bronzed features.
"And your mother?" Lysander asked, his voice low and steady. "Where was she when the vanguard attacked?"
Kaelith's amber eyes dimmed, her broad shoulders sagging further against the cold cave wall.
"She passed away from a wasting sickness long before the humans came," Kaelith murmured, a bitter smile touching her lips.
"Perhaps it was a mercy. She did not have to see our pride trampled in the mud"
She took a deep, shuddering breath, her hands clenching into fists over her bandaged wrists.
"We were already a dying tribe, Zero. Our numbers were low, and strong males were rare. When the Royal Knights breached our valley, the outcome was inevitable. But the Equus Giganteus do not bow." Kaelith's expression hardened, a mix of profound sorrow and terrifying pride. "The females who could not fight—the elders and the gentle ones—they chose to take their own lives with poisoned daggers rather than wear human collars. They died free"
Lysander stood completely still, but the atmosphere in the cave suddenly grew heavy. The temperature dropped.
"And the ones who could fight?" Kaelith continued, tears pooling in her eyes again.
"We fought until our weapons shattered and our bodies broke. Many of my sisters died screaming on human spears. When the dust settled, only eight or nine of us were left alive. We were critically injured, bleeding out... so they chained us up, threw us in different carts, and shipped us off to the Capital to be sold as breeding stock and gladiators. I was one of them"
Crack.
Kaelith jumped slightly. The sound came from Lysander. His gauntleted hands were clenched so tightly that the Abyssal Steel was groaning under the pressure.
Behind the iron mask, Lysander's blood was boiling. The sheer arrogance of the Human Kingdom—slaughtering the men, forcing the weak to suicide, and enslaving the survivors for entertainment and profit. It was a vile, rotten system.
"Scum," Lysander growled, his voice vibrating with a dark, murderous mana that made the pebbles on the cave floor tremble.
"They think they are gods playing with lives"
He took a heavy step forward, his crimson eyes locking onto Kaelith's amber ones.
"Kaelith," Lysander commanded, his tone shifting from anger to absolute authority. "Do you want to save your sisters? Do you want to tear down the Kingdom that slaughtered your father?"
Kaelith stared at him, her heart pounding against her ribs. "Of course I do! I would give my life to save them! But..."
Her fierce expression faltered, replaced by a harsh, skeptical reality. She looked at the solitary armored man standing before her.
"But how?" Kaelith asked, shaking her head in disbelief. "You are incredibly strong, yes. But you talk of war. You are just one man! Even if I join you, we are two. Let's say a miracle happens and we rescue my remaining eight sisters. That makes ten of us. Ten broken warriors against an entire Kingdom of millions, with thousands of Royal Knights and High Mages? That is suicide. How can you build a kingdom out of nothing?"
Lysander didn't flinch at her doubt. Instead, a dark, confident smirk formed beneath his iron mask.
The hydraulic servos in his armor hissed as he crossed his arms, standing tall like a monolith in the dim cavern.
"You think I am alone?" Lysander's voice echoed, carrying a weight that sent shivers down Kaelith's spine. "You think you and your sisters are the only ones I intend to rally?"
Kaelith blinked, her horse-ears twitching forward in confusion. "You... you have an army?"
"I have the foundation of an Empire," Lysander corrected her smoothly. "A village of survivors, just like you, who have suffered under the arrogance of this world. I have Pillars who possess S-Rank potential. And I am growing stronger every day"
He extended a heavy, black-armored hand toward the giant Centaur.
"Rest, Kaelith. Recover your strength. When I take you to my village and you see the family I am building with your own eyes... you will realize that the Human Kingdom has already lost"