For the Cyclops, this was just another ordinary night. After that trivial little commotion that barely made a ripple, the brutes scattered to rest or patrol their posts. As a tribe that lived almost entirely on instinct, this was the height of their capability—and for them, tonight was no different from any other.
But for Ophelia, this would be a night she would never forget.
Especially after reaching the rendezvous point and seeing the ranks of silent, stoic orc mercenaries lined up before her, Ophelia felt her heart sink like a stone. It had been a long time since she'd felt this emotion—nervousness.
Yes, Ophelia was terrified. She had never set foot on a battlefield, nor had she ever commanded an army. Though she'd crammed in a crash course on basic military knowledge during her time with Black, it was nowhere near enough to lead men into battle. For the first time, Ophelia felt a powerful urge to run away—to refuse this order and hand the responsibility over to someone else.
After all, warfare was nothing like politics. Politics relied on theory, and even if mistakes were made, timely remedies could prevent loss of life. But war was different. A single wrong command could doom hundreds, even thousands, of living souls. Black might be able to give such orders with a calm, unflinching heart, but Ophelia could not. Though she barely knew these orcs, she could not bring herself to sacrifice their lives so casually.
Unfortunately, she had no choice but to go through with it. As soon as they linked up with Judy, Black had ordered Ophelia to take a headcount of the troops. While the former princess had been busy counting soldiers, Black had slipped away silently with the others. By the time Ophelia realized what had happened, the only person left beside her was Charlotte, smiling brightly—Black and the rest were gone without a trace.
And so, Ophelia had no other option but to step up.
"Miss Charlotte, are you really sure you can't…?"
"I'm afraid not, Miss Ophelia," Charlotte replied, shaking her head with a smile.
"My expertise lies in asymmetric warfare under special circumstances. Open, frontal combat is not my strong suit. If I were to take command, I'm afraid I would do more harm than good."
"Then…"
Ophelia turned her gaze to the orc mercenary captain standing nearby. Sensing her eyes on him, the captain lifted his helmet and nodded solemnly.
"Miss Judy has ordered us to obey your commands, my lady. We will follow your orders without question."
"…"
It was clear that Ophelia had no turning back now.
What do I do?
Ophelia asked herself, her mind racing. How can I possibly fulfill Black's mission with my own strength?
She had no confidence in her abilities—but Black seemed to trust her completely.
So what *should* she do?
With that thought, Ophelia closed her eyes and began to sift through the intelligence she'd received earlier. As a spirit, Ophelia could communicate telepathically with the other wandering spirits—she just hadn't bothered to do so before, since she'd always kept a deliberate distance from Judy's faction. But this time, the spirits had provided her with precise details about the Cyclops tribe's location, terrain, and numbers. This was undoubtedly the most complex and well-hidden area in the entire valley. Though a maze of winding paths crisscrossed the hills, only two roads led to the heart of the valley—and that was exactly where the Cyclops had made their lair. It sounded complicated, but finding their way in was surprisingly simple. Expecting creatures as dim-witted as Cyclops to understand codes or signals was asking too much. Their criteria for choosing paths was far more straightforward—they only ever took the widest roads available.
It was a stroke of luck, really. But it also made the monsters' defenses laughably simple—all they had to do was guard the two main roads, and no enemy could hope to penetrate their stronghold. The valley's narrow terrain left little room for maneuver, especially in a situation like this.
So what was the only option? The best option?
Ophelia opened her eyes.
The bright, full moon still hung high in the night sky, and time was ticking away. Though the valley was quiet and peaceful now, Ophelia could feel something stirring—something she had never felt before.
"I've made my decision," Ophelia announced, turning to face the orc captain.
"From this moment on, I require absolute obedience. Captain, divide your men into five squads of ten, including yourself. I need each squad leader to follow my orders without hesitation. I will tell you exactly when and where to strike, and what to do when you get there. Once the battle begins, I will issue no further commands. So I urge you—commit my words to memory."
"Yes, my lady. Understood."
Ophelia's words prompted Charlotte and the mercenary captain to exchange curious glances. Neither of them could quite figure out what the young lady was planning. But since they'd already agreed to follow her lead, they didn't question her further. The orc captain nodded briskly, no questions asked. Only then did Ophelia let out a long, relieved breath, a weight lifting off her shoulders.
"Here is the plan…"
As Ophelia laid out her strategy, the expressions on Charlotte and the orc captain's faces slowly turned to something akin to astonishment. One was a veteran of centuries of war, and the other had led his men through countless bloody battles—but neither of them had ever heard of such a bizarre method of command.
"That is all," Ophelia said, finishing her explanation. She looked up at the two of them, her gaze steady.
"Do you have any questions?"
"A most unique approach to warfare, Miss Ophelia," Charlotte commented, her smile never wavering.
"I've never heard of anything like it."
The orc captain didn't say a word—but his slight nod made it clear that even this battle-hardened warrior found Ophelia's plan utterly unprecedented. Ophelia merely smiled and shook her head, her expression turning serious once more.
"Then go and make your preparations. We do not have much time."
"Yes, Miss Ophelia."
"As you command."
With that, Charlotte and the orc captain turned and left at once. Ophelia stood rooted to the spot for a moment, silent, before letting out a soft sigh. She walked to the edge of the hillside and peered down into the valley below. Bathed in moonlight, the ramshackle wooden huts scattered across the valley floor looked even more dilapidated than usual. The faint red glimmers of campfires flickered weakly in the darkness, and the tall, lumbering figures of Cyclops could be seen wandering aimlessly between the huts. Clearly, even the monsters were succumbing to the weariness of the night, their movements growing sluggish and lazy.
It was midnight, and the world was wrapped in a profound silence—as if even the most evil beings in existence had succumbed to deep slumber.
"Annihilate them all… annihilate them all…"
Ophelia muttered to herself, clenching her teeth. She pressed her hands to her chest, slowly steadying her racing heartbeat, then lifted her head to gaze up at the night sky.
Thick, ethereal black mist seeped out from her body, coiling around her like a living thing. It swirled and twisted, changing shape, before finally solidifying into hard, gleaming metal. A sleek, form-fitting suit of black armor clung tightly to her body, accentuating her graceful curves. Behind her back, a cluster of slender, diamond-shaped metal plates overlapped each other, hovering in midair like a pair of folded wings. This was her ultimate Illusionary Armament, forged through countless hours of combat training. It had abandoned its original bulky form, evolving into something lighter, faster, and infinitely more deadly. Moonlight glinted off the armor's polished surface, reflecting a cold, otherworldly glow.
Everything was ready.
Ophelia stared at her armored hands, her heart a jumble of emotions. She knew full well that this was no longer a practice drill or a simulated exercise—it was a real battle, a fight to the death. Though she was confident of victory, she could not shake the knot of nervousness in her stomach. It was a far more intense feeling than any she had ever experienced in the royal palace. Not even her first time speaking at a royal court session, when she'd boldly presented her own political views, had made her feel this anxious. Back then, she'd been filled with nothing but confidence in herself.
But now, everything was different.
The time had come.
Ophelia glanced around, silently counting down the seconds in her mind. Then she raised her head, her eyes fixed firmly on the valley ahead, her expression resolute.
With that, the young woman broke into a run. When she reached the edge of the cliff, she leaped forward, her body soaring through the air as if she meant to take flight.
But the next moment, gravity seized her relentlessly, pulling her back down toward the ground below.
"BOOM!!"
A deafening crash shattered the valley's peaceful silence.
The battle had begun.