Chapter 1: the chief

The main room of the western fortress had never been designed to hold someone like Gloria.

It was built for generals, commanders, strategists.

Not for disasters wrapped in human skin.

The moment she arrived, the entire atmosphere of the fortress shifted. Outside the walls, hundreds of Helia's advancing minions had been marching toward the western border only moments ago. Scouts had prepared for battle. Archers had taken positions. Soldiers had tightened their grips around spears.

Then word spread. Gloria had arrived. The enemy force broke formation. They retreated. No battle. No warning. No confrontation. They simply fled.

As if remaining within the same province as her was more terrifying than facing Mythos itself. The massive gates groaned open. Heavy footsteps echoed across the courtyard. Every soldier standing nearby instinctively straightened their backs. Some lowered their eyes. Others avoided looking at her altogether. Gloria walked through the fortress like she owned every stone beneath her boots.

Long black hair flowed behind her. Crimson eyes swept across the surroundings. The ruthless chief of western border security looked exactly like the stories claimed. And perhaps worse, her gaze immediately landed on Drakaina. The Dragon of Mythos stood beside the strategy table, maps scattered before her.

For several seconds, Gloria simply stared, then she laughed. A short cruel unamused laugh.

"Unbelievable."

Her voice cut through the room, "You let Helia's vermins roam this close to the border and you're still moving pieces on a map."

Drakaina's posture stiffened.

Gloria climbed the steps leading toward the command platform without waiting for permission a servant practically sprinted toward her and nervously offered a freshly prepared chilam.

She took it, lit it and inhaled deeply. The smoke curled from her lips as she casually dropped herself into the command chair. Drakaina's command chair.

One armored leg crossed over the other. The chair suddenly looked less like military furniture and more like a throne.

"You call yourself the Dragon of Mythos?" She exhaled smoke.

"I've seen village guards prepare faster than this."

The room fell silent as nobody dared defend Drakaina.

Gloria's red eyes narrowed further. "Western Province isn't some peaceful forest where mistakes can be cleaned up afterward."

Her voice became colder, "One mistake here and entire cities vanish."

The servants lowered their heads, the officers remained frozen.

Even Drakaina seemed moments away from drawing her sword. Then Gloria waved dismissively.

"As expected." She leaned back, "Too much reputation. Not enough results."

And then—her eyes shifted straight toward User and the temperature in the room seemed to drop.

The amused cruelty vanished from her face and now she looked like a predator studying something that had wandered into her territory. Slowly, deliberately, she took another pull from the chilam.

The burning ember illuminated her crimson eyes, "Interesting."

Her gaze swept across User from head to toe. Not admiring but asessing, judging, calculating.

A faint smirk appeared, One that looked far more dangerous than outright hostility. "And who exactly are you supposed to be?"

The room remained silent. Gloria rested her cheek against one armored fist.

"Because last I checked..." Smoke escaped her lips, "...people don't simply walk into the Western Province."

Her eyes sharpened, "Especially without my approval and I remember every face of whom I approve and whom I don't."

Drakaina: "chief, he was sent here by Serenya and he helped us capture the minion who gave us intel, he doesn't—"

Gloria: "Does he have a voice or not Drakaina? If yes, he'll speak for himself."

Her gaze lands on you again as she takes another drag, "So, you can talk or not?"