The war room felt colder than usual, both in temperature and atmosphere. An old map of Langley lay on the table, as worn as the expressions of the people gathered around it. Elias sat at the head, his arms crossed and his eyes difficult to read. To his right were the academy professors—men who had watched their dreams fade away over the years. Surrounding them were the leaders of Langley's trades, including agriculture, mining, and smithing guilds.
I stood there, not with a sword, but with a clear plan.
"I'm suggesting we restart Langley's unique products," I began, "like mechanical filtration cores, precision aura coils, and academic-grade stabilization plates."
The room was silent.
"These were once our top exports," I continued. "The academy knows, and the land has the resources. We just need coordination."
One professor shook his head. "Coordination is easy if you have money, but you're suggesting we fund research with hopes?"
"I've already invested the money," I replied calmly. "But I need your expertise."
The head of the metalworks leaned forward. "Even if this works, who will buy them? The central kingdom has almost forgotten about Langley."
I felt a knot in my stomach. I had expected doubt, but their skepticism felt overwhelming.
"We don't need the whole kingdom," I argued. "We just need one buyer to see our value and start a chain reaction."
Elias sighed. "You're expecting them to make a bold decision without providing any evidence."
"I've already done that," I replied firmly. "You can hesitate if you want, but I will make this work, with or without your support."
I met each person's gaze, not seeking permission but issuing a challenge.
"I'm not seeking approval," I continued. "This is a declaration. Langley is no longer a graveyard of ideas. It's a workshop, and I'm here to restart the fire."
They didn't immediately agree, but they didn't block me either.
By the next morning, materials were being moved. Engineers were reopening old buildings. Mages began working on the first dormant aura reactor in years. And the academy started to come alive again.
Days later, the first products were ready to ship.
The hired mercenaries were ready too—tough men and women who fought for money. They didn't need to understand my vision—that was fine.
They were paid to protect.
But I wasn't going to let them take the risk alone.
"I'll go with the first shipment," I told their leader.
He was surprised. "You're the Duchess."
"I'm the one funding it. If it fails, then I fail too."
He shrugged. "Just don't get in our way."
The caravan left Langley under a pale orange sky. The smell of iron and old wood lingered as wheels rolled over cracked roads. I sat on a crate in the lead carriage, my rapier close by.
My senses were sharp. Since learning about my aura, I have practiced using it. Although my control was lacking, I could focus well.
The wind changed.
Something felt wrong.
Then it happened.
A sharp sound. A groan. Someone fell outside the carriage.
My eyes widened as the mercenary next to me dropped, his throat cut.
I didn't freeze.
I stood slowly, focusing my aura to the tip of my sword—small and so dense it could slice through steel.
The carriage creaked.
A shadow moved.
I turned.
Thud.
My sword whispered through the air, piercing the attacker's chest.
One down.
Then two.
Four.
Seven.
I moved with precision—every motion perfect. The aura on my sword's tip felt like a needle made of thunder.
Then—darkness surrounded me.
A circle of bandits emerged from the trees, their eyes filled with greed. Their leader stepped forward, taller and fiercer.
"You thought you'd rebuild this broken place? " he sneered. "You've just handed us a big prize."
I stood firm. My breathing was steady, sword ready.
His laugh echoed.
Then, in a split second, he lunged.
Too fast.
I barely dodged. A sharp pain cut down my neck.
I glanced up; his eyes weren't human anymore.
His body changed—bones cracking, fur growing, claws elongating.
The bandit had turned.
A werewolf.
The beast howled at the rising moon, hungry.
I didn't wait.
As he lifted his head, I became a shadow.
One step. Two.
Then—strike.
My sword flew, with aura compressed tighter than ever.
As he lowered his neck—
Slice.
The head fell.
The body twitched.
Silence.
The other bandits froze, then ran.
One wasn't quick enough.
I grabbed him by the collar, slammed him down, and held my sword to his throat.
"You'll talk," I whispered. "Tomorrow."
When the sun rose over Langley again, my cloak was marked with blood, but my determination was clear.
This was only the beginning.
And I would protect what I was rebuilding—even if it meant carving a path through the dark myself.