The Master’s Command

“He moved.”

Facing Aivy’s implied threat, Lucius remained unyielding, advancing the halberdier positioned before Saranya.

Instead of attacking Saranya, the halberdier moved sideways to capture a pawn. The pawn, a mere henchman, drew its weapon in defiance, but due to its inferior equipment, it was swiftly wounded and removed from the board.

It was Saranya’s turn.

Reaching for Aivy’s piece, she intended to launch Aivy directly at Lucius, the ‘king,’ hoping to secure victory in a single decisive move.

“Wait.”

Before Saranya could touch the piece, Kaelan’s voice sharply halted her.

“Aivy cannot handle Lucius.”

“Huh? Even a Divine Arts practitioner can’t deal with Lucius…?”

“Look.”

Kaelan extended a pale hand, her finger indicating the square beside Lucius.

“Oh…”

There was Lenix, the dryad ‘queen,’ leaning languidly against a magical barrier, chatting with Lucius beside her. She appeared utterly unconcerned by any approaching foe.

Even without her master’s explanation, Saranya now understood. The reasoning was simple:

‘If you attack, and your enemy, knowing your intent, shows little interest, then you must reconsider your actions.’

Lucius was positioned right next to Lenix. In such a scenario, sending Aivy directly into battle against him carried an exorbitant risk; the dryad was two hundred percent likely to secretly interfere with magic.

Adhering to the principle of ‘not inviting death,’ Saranya temporarily held her offensive. Leaving Aivy in place, she instead advanced a bishop onto the board, its range perfectly covering Aivy’s square.

With this move, the probability of Lucius actively attacking Aivy diminished significantly:

Firstly, if Lucius personally attacked Aivy, he would advance one square, landing on Aivy’s space, thereby moving away from Lenix’s support. Saranya doubted he possessed such audacity.

Secondly, even if Lucius, with his formidable martial prowess, managed to defeat Aivy alone, Saranya could immediately send in her bishop from the rear to initiate a second round of combat, forcing Lucius to face the Silver Hand’s elites again while already fatigued. This would be a two-on-one scenario, giving her a significant advantage.

‘A perfect arrangement!’

“Hmph.”

To her surprise, Lucius paid no heed to her move, focusing instead on commanding his Holy Fire Knight to capture her henchman.

“Miss Haia! Watch closely, I will win! Beautiful Miss Haia! I—I will forever be loyal to you!”

The attacked henchman, brimming with fervor, raised its weapon and let out a series of war cries. Yet, no sooner had the young fighter declared its allegiance to Saranya than it was impaled by the Holy Fire Knight’s spear, collapsing to the ground, twitching as it was removed to the graveyard.

With two consecutive losses in her front line, Saranya’s heart sank. She quickly advanced a pawn to mend her formation, but Lucius, a dark scowl on his face, immediately sent Mitchel to smash into her pawn array, landing on a Silver Hand member’s square.

The Silver Hand Gospel Society’s henchman, clad in light leather armor and dual-wielding curved, alien swords, was essentially an assassin-type character—utterly unsuited for a direct confrontation with a heavily armored unit, let alone the venerable Holy Fire Knight Captain.

Predictably, after a bitter struggle, Saranya’s henchman suffered severe torso wounds, battered and bleeding, dropping its weapon and screaming for surrender. Mitchel, in contrast, merely bore a few dented white marks on his breastplate.

‘That bastard Lucius, he could have just sent someone to attack me directly, he’s… he’s doing this on purpose…’

Indeed, the scoundrel young master sought not merely victory, but also reveled in deliberately harming her companions and allies, leveraging the superior might of his forces. At this rate, it seemed Lucius intended to eliminate everyone but her, saving her for last.

And she? She held only Aivy as a trump card, yet she was wary of Lenix, daring not to launch a rash offensive against Lucius.

‘What should I do?’

Saranya wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, her voice trembling slightly as she explained her thought process to Kaelan:

“Mitchel just finished a battle, he must be exhausted. I… I should send my henchman to attack him—”

“That won’t work. You’ll only lose another piece that way.”

Kaelan mercilessly shot down her suggestion.

“You can’t possibly not know what to do, can you?”

“What… to do?”

Saranya glanced at Kaelan, her eyes widening slightly in surprise, then turned to meet her master’s gaze.

“Are you planning to let your master watch as you are taken by another?”

“No…”

“I’m rather doubtful, you know. You’ve touched almost every one of your pieces, yet you’ve left your master here, as if I were a mere vase. Are you… lacking confidence in your master’s abilities?”

Kaelan removed the blood-red agate pendant from her ear, tucking the solitary earring along with the amethyst necklace from her throat into her bosom.

“I permit you to use me, Anya. Let your queen do what she must. Let me protect you.”

“Master, no, you can’t use magic to fight here! They’ll use it as an excuse to arrest you!”

“Not necessarily, is it?”

Kaelan pulled away the silver chain entwined in her hair, and her long, night-dark tresses cascaded down.

‘Gulp…’

Saranya was unprepared, nervously swallowing.

“Tsk.”

The young witch chuckled, her cherry lips parting slightly to grip a few leather hair ties. Her slender fingers threaded through her hair, meticulously gathering the falling strands, then braiding two thin plaits, one on each side. Finally, she seized her abundant hair and bound it into a long, spear-like ponytail at the back of her head.

“Have you never seen a witch fight with her bare hands?”

‘A witch, in close combat…’

Saranya blinked, wondering if she had misheard.

Kaelan rolled up the sleeves of her black gown, exposing her soft, pale elbows. The skin there was smooth and supple, identical to a sacred goddess’s statue—making it difficult to associate her with brawling.

“Otherwise, what did you think happened that first day we met, when I laid you out on the ground? Corpses were strewn all around you, yet you lay there perfectly unharmed. Do you truly believe you were simply that lucky?”

“Huh?”

Seeing her bewildered, Kaelan’s eyes curved, her eyelashes fluttering. Her red pupils were filled with tender affection, as if gazing at a fragile young beast:

“Foolish girl…”

Saranya’s heart skipped a beat.

“Your master can protect you, no matter where you are, when, or what you’re doing. Your master will always protect you. What happened before will never happen again…”

“Anya, you just need to rely on your master. Nothing else matters. That foolish noble can kill everyone around you… everyone…”

As she spoke, a flicker of jealousy suddenly crossed Kaelan’s eyes.

“Regarding Vireta earlier, your master was very displeased. You don’t need to cry for anyone but me… From now on, everything you possess must be given to me, including your identity, the dominion over your body, and of course, all your emotions. Whether you cry or laugh, even if it’s anger, it doesn’t matter, as long as you only reveal it to me. Alright?”

Without waiting for Saranya’s reply, Kaelan abruptly added a final statement:

“This is your master’s command.”

“Command… command…”

A burning sensation rose in Saranya’s abdomen. She murmured her master’s final words, her blue eyes slowly blurring with a daze. Her lips parted slightly, and a glistening trail of saliva slipped from the corner of her mouth.

“Yes, Master…”

“Then, will you accept your master’s protection?”

“Yes… Thank you, Master…”

Saranya covered the burgeoning purple magical glow beneath her collar with her hand, nervously glancing left and right. A faint sense of shame made her instinctively clench her thighs. Her finger slid across the chessboard, moving her ‘queen’ towards the distant Lenix.