Time snapped back into motion like a whip cracking.
Sound crashed in all at once—Esmeralda's sharp inhale, the guards' startled murmurs, the wind stirring the grass. Pain surged through Lena's body as if it had been waiting patiently for permission.
Her knees trembled.
Blood still coated her tongue.
Ashikai whimpered, pressing closer to her legs.
Kairos felt it immediately.
The resistance.
His power—absolute, crushing, ancient—had always bent others the instant it touched them. Nobles collapsed. Soldiers knelt. Even mages bowed under its pressure like reeds beneath a storm.
Lena did not kneel.
Her body shook violently, muscles screaming as the invisible force bore down on her again, heavier this time, deliberate.
Submit, the pressure seemed to demand.
Lena planted her hands against the dirt and pushed.
Her breath came in harsh, ragged gasps. Every instinct told her to fall, to let it end—but Fate's voice echoed in her bones.
Do not kneel.
Her fingers dug into the soil.
"No," she rasped.
Kairos's eyes narrowed.
Interesting.
He increased the force.
The ground beneath Lena cracked.
Ashikai cried out, fur bristling as the pressure brushed him. "Lena—stop—please—!"
She heard him. She really did.
But something deeper had awakened—something not loud, not flashy, but stubborn and immovable.
Her spine straightened.
Slowly.
Pain ripped through her like fire, yet she forced herself upright inch by inch, blood dripping from her lip onto the dirt.
The crowd fell silent.
Esmeralda's smug smile faltered.
"That's impossible," someone whispered.
Kairos stepped closer, his presence suffocating. "You should be unconscious," he said coolly. "Your body cannot withstand this."
Lena laughed weakly. "Yeah," she coughed. "I get that a lot."
She lifted her head fully now, eyes blazing—not with magic, not with light, but with pure, unyielding will.
"I don't know what you are," she continued, voice shaking but clear. "King. Demon. God. Whatever." She spat blood again. "But you don't own me."
The air shuddered.
Kairos felt it then—not power pushing back, but something worse.
Refusal.
Not resistance born of strength.
Resistance born of choice.
For the first time in centuries, his control didn't snap shut the way it always did.
It slipped.
His smirk faded.
Ashikai stared at Lena in awe, fear momentarily forgotten. "She's… she's doing it…"
Kairos reached out, fingers curling as he focused, intent sharpening like a blade. The force intensified, aiming not to crush her body—but her spirit.
Lena screamed.
Not in surrender.
In fury.
Something inside her answered.
A pulse rolled through the air—silent, colorless, unseen—yet everyone felt it. Guards staggered back. Birds burst from nearby trees. The grass flattened outward in a perfect circle.
Kairos froze.
His power recoiled.
Just for a heartbeat.
But that heartbeat was enough.
Lena stood.
Fully.
Her knees no longer touched the ground.
Her breath was ragged, her body shaking violently, but she was standing—standing—under the Demon King's full authority.
Kairos stared at her.
Not with anger.
With recognition.
"…So that's why," he murmured.
Esmeralda shrieked. "Do something! She's mocking you!"
Lena turned her head slowly toward Kairos, eyes dark, defiant, burning with something unnamed.
"You can hurt me," she said quietly. "You can kill me. But you won't ever make me bow."
For a long moment, the world held its breath.
Then Kairos withdrew his power.
The pressure vanished so suddenly Lena nearly collapsed, but Ashikai lunged forward, bracing her.
She gasped, clutching his fur, body finally giving in to the pain.
The murmurs exploded around them.
"She resisted—"
"No one resists—"
"What is she—?"
Kairos straightened, his expression carefully blank once more, though something had undeniably shifted behind his eyes.
"Enough," he commanded.
The guards hesitated, shaken.
He looked down at Lena—not as prey, not as a nuisance, but as a problem that refused to stay small.
"A human," he said softly, "who defies fate itself."
Lena lifted her head weakly and met his gaze.
"Get used to it," she muttered.
Somewhere unseen, Fate smiled.
And somewhere deeper still, the shadow watched—no longer amused, but wary.