Chương 64: Interlude: Elizabeth

Elizabeth sat with her legs crossed upon a throne shaped from earth and leaf, its structure grown rather than built, stone rising in smooth, deliberate curves, woven through with living vines that had been coaxed into elegant, supportive forms. Despite its origin, it was… comfortable. Remarkably so. Her subordinates had proven themselves more than capable.

"Only a few minutes remain…" she murmured, her voice soft, measured, carrying easily across the quiet space. At the base of her throne, two figures knelt. An Elf—Todd—and a winged Beastkin—Felix. Both bowed low, heads inclined with unmistakable reverence.

"Yes, Your Majesty." Elizabeth turned her gaze toward them, expression composed, posture effortless.

"You need not lower yourselves so completely," she said gently.

"I have never claimed the title you insist upon granting me." They lifted their heads slightly. The light in their eyes did not waver. Fanaticism. Bright and unquestioning. She did not acknowledge it. Todd spoke first, his voice steady, unwavering in its conviction.

"Your Majesty's humility is, as always, admirable, but misplaced. It is only through your leadership that nearly all within our tutorial survived. You brought order where there was none, forged unity from chaos, and elevated us from scattered individuals into something… cohesive." He lowered himself further.

"Casualties were minimized. Efficiency was maximized. Every action taken under your command yielded results. We thrived because of you." A pause. Then, with absolute certainty—"I offer my loyalty to you, and to you alone, my queen." Too easy. The thought passed through her mind without resistance. These people were entirely too predictable. Still— She smiled. Soft and measured. A carefully constructed expression, touched faintly with something resembling melancholy.

"Then it is a loyalty that will, regrettably, go untested for some time," Elizabeth replied.

"The System has made its intent clear. We will not remain together." Her gaze drifted slightly, as if considering something distant.

"I remained human. You did not. Across our ranks are countless races, countless variables. We will be scattered across Asteria according to our racial transformations." She returned her attention to them.

"Our paths will diverge." Felix spoke this time, his voice firm despite the tension in it.

"Even so, Your Majesty, we will endure. We will grow stronger. And should fate permit our reunion, we will stand ready to serve you once more." Elizabeth regarded him for a moment before inclining her head ever so slightly.

"I have no doubt you will survive," she said, her tone warm, reassuring in a way that felt entirely genuine on the surface.

"All of you have gained far more than you began with. That alone places you well above the average." The two rose to their feet. Todd struck his chest with a closed fist, posture straight, conviction absolute.

"I swear it. Under your guidance, we achieved what no other group could. There is no possibility that any other tutorial block performed better than ours." His eyes burned with certainty.

"And as for individuals, there is no doubt in my mind that you stand at the very top." Elizabeth let out a soft laugh. Barely audible. Just enough to break the moment. Todd faltered, confusion flickering across his expression.

"Your Majesty…?" She lifted a hand, dismissing the concern with an easy, graceful motion.

"My apologies," she said.

"I did not intend to interrupt. It is simply… an amusing assumption." Her smile remained. Composed and polite, expression entirely controlled.

"I do not doubt that I rank highly," she continued, her tone even.

"My results were… satisfactory." An extreme understatement. While her kill points left something to be desired, her achievements bordered on absurd. Her gaze lowered slightly toward the spool of thread resting within her hand. The strands shifted subtly of their own accord, writhing with quiet life beneath her fingers.

"Enough so," she said calmly, "to purchase a soul weapon of my own." A slight pause. Then—"But I am not the first." Her gaze sharpened just slightly.

"I am quite certain there exists someone who stands above me." A brief silence followed. Then, with quiet certainty—"And I have no doubt that she is the one who claimed that position." The elf spoke once again. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it"If I may ask, my queen… who exactly is this 'she' you speak of?" A faint smile touched Elizabeth's lips. Not the carefully measured expression she had worn thus far. A real one. Softened at the edges.

"My friend," she replied.

"Though, regrettably, one I was separated from before any of this even began. Her name is Lyn." She let the name linger for a moment.

"A small girl, by appearance alone. Deceptively so. She is precisely the sort of individual who would regard the entirety of this tutorial as… negotiable." Her gaze drifted slightly, unfocused for just a fraction of a second.

"Given the proper environment, I imagine she would dismantle it." There was a brief pause as she glanced around the cavern. The movement of people, the quiet coordination, the steady rhythm of a system she had built and refined. Then— She let out a small, unrestrained giggle. An extremely rare sound.

"Though," she added lightly, "that does depend somewhat on her circumstances. If she happened to arrive somewhere like this, for instance, where the primary threat consists of moths…" Her shoulders lifted ever so slightly.

"I suspect her performance may have been… compromised." Todd and Felix exchanged a glance. Their confusion deepened.

"If I may be so presumptuous," Todd began carefully, "is she truly that exceptional? And… moths?" Elizabeth's attention returned to them, her expression settling once more into composed clarity.

"She is," she said simply. A statement. Not an opinion.

"The only individual I have ever regarded as my equal in intellect, though we specialize in entirely different domains." She gestured lightly with one hand.

"As you are aware, my strengths lie in structure. Long-term planning. Organization. The efficient distribution of resources and personnel." A slight inclination of her head.

"I am… adequate in combat." A modest claim. A deliberate one.

"She, however, excels in immediacy. Her mind operates at an extraordinary pace, constructing solutions in real time with an efficiency that borders on absurdity. Where I build systems, she dismantles problems." Her gaze sharpened just slightly, a hint of admiration threading through the otherwise controlled tone.

"In a world where adaptability directly translates into power—into skills, techniques, and refined control—I find it exceedingly difficult to imagine her performing poorly." A pause. Then, softer—"If anything, I would expect the opposite." She allowed herself another small, amused breath.

"As for the moths…" A flicker of something—fondness, perhaps—passed briefly through her expression.

"She is terrified of them." The words were delivered with perfect composure. Which made them significantly worse.

"A thoroughly irrational fear, in my opinion. Though she has described them as 'highly suspicious,' which I am told is justification enough." Elizabeth folded her hands neatly in her lap once more.

"In summary, yes. She is that exceptional." A faint smile returned. Subtle and certain.

"And if she was not placed at the very top…" Her gaze lifted slightly, thoughtful.

"Then I would be far more concerned about whoever was." As the two absorbed her words, the System chose that moment to intervene. A blue window manifested before them. One minute remaining. The message rippled through the cavern as system windows bloomed across everyone's vision at once, reflected only indirectly through widened eyes, sharp breaths, and sudden stillness. The atmosphere shifted instantly. What had been orderly became… taut. Not chaotic. It was never chaotic. Just... charged.

Anticipation spread like a current through the gathered masses, conversations cutting short, movements slowing, attention turning inward as the reality of what came next settled over them all. Elizabeth rose. The motion was smooth, unhurried. Deliberate and immediate. Every gaze turned toward her. All of them. Nearly ten thousand individuals, gathered through structure, discipline, and her guidance, now focused entirely on a single point. On her. She felt the weight of it. Measured it. Accepted it.

A casualty rate of one percent. Within acceptable parameters. Her expression did not change. Elizabeth drew in a quiet breath and stepped forward from her throne, the earthen structure remaining behind her like a discarded symbol rather than something she relied upon. She did not raise her voice. She did not need to. When she spoke, her words carried. Her Leadership trait settled into place. Not forceful or oppressive, but undeniable.

A subtle reinforcement that lent clarity, direction, and weight to every syllable.

"My companions," she began, her tone calm, composed, effortlessly reaching the farthest edges of the cavern.

"We stand at the threshold of something far greater than what we have endured here." A pause. Measured. Allowing the words to settle.

"The tutorial was not a world. It was a test. A confined environment designed to shape us, to temper us, and—most importantly—to reveal who among us would adapt." Her gaze swept across the gathered crowd. Not lingering too long. Just... seeing.

"You have done so admirably." Another pause, softer this time.

"Survival was never guaranteed. Yet the overwhelming majority of you stand here, having not only endured, but grown." Her posture remained straight, her presence unwavering.

"That is not luck. It is capability." Her tone shifted subtly.

"What awaits us beyond this moment will not be structured so conveniently. There will be no guarantees of safety, no singular authority to coordinate your actions, and no assurance that those around you will act with your best interests in mind." The tension sharpened. Focused.

"You will be scattered. Separated by distance, by circumstance, and by fate itself." Her gaze steadied.

"But that does not diminish what you have achieved here." A slight incline of her head.

"Carry that forward. Continue to adapt. Continue to grow. And most importantly—continue to survive." A final pause. Longer. Heavier.

"Should our paths cross again…" A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips.

"I expect to find you stronger than you are now." Silence followed. Elizabeth let it linger for a moment longer before lowering her gaze slightly, the faintest acknowledgment of those before her. Then— The world went white. There was no transition, no gradual shift from one place to the next. One moment she stood within the ordered structure of her domain, and the next, everything vanished into a featureless brightness. When Elizabeth's vision returned, it did so cleanly.

An endless field of wheat stretched before her, golden and swaying beneath a clear afternoon sky. The sun hung high, casting long shadows across the rippling expanse as wind passed through in steady, natural currents. She did not move immediately. Instead, she observed. Figures stood nearby. Thousands of them. Familiar faces, gathered in loose formation, their posture uncertain but intact. Her subordinates. Not all of them.

A brief survey confirmed the pattern quickly: humans and beastkin remained, while the others—elves among them—were absent. Approximately three thousand individuals stood within range. Elizabeth's thoughts aligned at once. The System had grouped them. By race, or perhaps compatibility. Which meant this region likely supported both humans and beastkin, and that their arrival had been… curated. A controlled transition designed to preserve some degree of cohesion. A small advantage.

She allowed herself a faint, approving smile. Her gaze lifted briefly to the sky, as if searching for something beyond it. Had Lyn changed as well? Racial adaptation generally fit the person. The way they act, the way they end up fighting. A fox, perhaps. A cat. Something elegant, something quick. A dragon, if such things existed here. Or perhaps something else entirely. Her eyes lingered for only a moment before lowering again. It did not matter. They would meet again. That was not speculation, it was certainty.

And Elizabeth would be the one to find her, not the other way around. Although she is undoubtedly thinking the same. Her attention shifted outward, scanning the horizon. Movement. A group approached—human, unfamiliar, advancing with cautious steps. Their expressions revealed more than their posture. Elizabeth watched them closely, her gaze sharpening just slightly as she tracked where their attention fell. On the beastkin. And the emotion behind it— Was wrong. Not fear or uncertainty. Disgust. Plain and simple. Ah.

So that is how it is. The conclusion formed instantly. This location would not be suitable for long-term stability. A region aligned with beastkin populations would provide far greater efficiency, fewer unnecessary conflicts, and better overall cohesion. Relocation would be required. She turned smoothly, raising a single hand. The army responded immediately, falling into motion with quiet discipline, their formation tightening as they advanced without hesitation. Not toward battle. At least, not yet.

Information came first. Always. Elizabeth's gaze settled on several individuals within the approaching group. Those whose composure wavered, whose emotions ran highest, whose thoughts would be easiest to read. Ideal. Her expression softened, carefully measured into something calm, approachable, and entirely deliberate. Then she stepped forward to meet them— And began.