The Last Primal

At first, there was no response or reaction of any sort to the old butler's words. The Masked Mistress continued staring in the direction of the city center and looked as if she didn't even hear the old man's words.

Yet, Sebas the old butler didn't react either. He kept his bowed, subservient, and at the same time, reverent posture and calmly awaited the words of her madame.

After some minutes, the lady finally heaved a sigh and nodded her head.

"Thank you for informing Sebas." She spoke curtly. Pausing for another couple of breaths' time before adding. "Initiate the second phase of the plan. Inform all the groups we have made contracts with and assign them to their places. Make sure they each complete their tasks."

"At your command, madame." Sebas responded, taking a couple more seconds to keep his bowed posture before standing back up and swiftly turning around. As he walked back to the door and was about to step out of the room, suddenly he was called for again.

"Wait." The Masked Mistress called out.

"Yes? How may I be of assistance, madame?" Sebas asked with his usual courtesy.

The Mistress sighed heavily before she could muster the words that plagued her heart.

"My daughter…" She began, her tone was much less powerful than before. Instead, it sounded… worried? "How are they?"

"They have just met with Lord Diaz' youngest son's group, madame." The old man promptly responded.

Hearing this, the Masked Mistress clicked her tongue in annoyance and with rising anger. "Those hideous demon worshippers? How did they even enter? And more importantly… when?"

"It was by the order of the Academy's currently reigning principal madame. They have entered later, secretly from within the Academy."

"Hmm… What of their task? What was the purpose of adding that annoying group to the mix?"

This time, the old man, Sebas took a couple of seconds to formulate his response. Despite that hesitation, his tone carried no such emotion within it.

"It was the boy, madame. The Principal seems to be quite interested in him."

"Hmm…" The Masked Mistress turned her attention back to the distance as she pondered on what she had just heard. "First, he fixes the portal's magic, allowing that madman to alter it, and make the boy be separated… Then sends those puppets after him… This is already way too abrupt, it had to be noticed by that old man in the council…" The Madame muttered to herself.

"Yet, the old man did nothing even though everything was clear…. Strange."

Grabbing her chin under the mask, she caressed it as she continued muttering, processing all the information. Her mind was running at a heightened pace as it made connections between everything that had transpired.

"Still, after all that, they send yet another group in… but although their aim is to get to the boy, they go after the rest of the group… How interesting…"

She continued pondering, muttering and processing all the knowledge for some time, mostly silently, only speaking an occasional word every now and then, before finally after several minutes she sighed again, and for the first time since the old butler entering the study, she turned to look at him standing by the door.

"It seems there's something big going on… with that boy seemingly placed at the center of it all. Question is, my dear old friend… do they know about the incoming guests?" She sneered as she continued. "Please, go and make a visit. It's time to crash their little 'party'. Make sure to bring enough hands, they might turn out to be… hmm, grumpy."

"As you order, Madame." Sebas nodded, bowing once more at his Mistress' command. Standing up a few seconds later, he reached for the door, but before leaving, he spoke one last time. "I shall take my leave then, madame. I should be back in a few hours at most."

Having said that, he promptly excused himself from the room and swiftly left the hallway. Soon the pitter-patters of his steps have faded away, he had left to accomplish the task given to him by the Masked Mistress.

—

At the back of the large dark mass that was part of the Empire's invasion force, a large man was looking over a map spread out on a hastily erected wooden table. He was Prince Dorian, the general of this sizable army assigned to conquer the southern side of the Draquilian Kingdom.

He was roughly looking to be in his middle ages, with a short mass of matte black hair and a clean-shaven face. A small stub of a mustache stood proudly atop his lips. He looked sternly at the map, showing the planned and scouted positions of the opponents' forces.

"Hmm… What are your thoughts, everyone?" He asked after a while.

"There's no need to scheme or make such deliberate plans. We have an overwhelming force, we can easily swallow this small city without wasting time on… this!" A large hand slapped the table, following alongside a rough-sounding voice. Lord Rillon, a tall, brawny large bald man with a light brown mustache adorning his face spoke up with an annoyed tone. Him being the tallest and from a first glance, the strongest in terms of muscle mass held quite the intimidating presence amongst the rest of his peers.

"I think you should use your head a bit more, barbarian." A croaking voice, coming from an old gray-haired, much thinner-looking robed elder resounded. He was Exarch K'hlen , the leader of the Spellcasters, a powerful, and feared Wizard, with a specialization in curses and blights. Rumors say that he was responsible for several villages in the borders of the Wastelands suddenly turning into nothing more than mass graveyards.

He was leading one of the most feared groups across not just in the army, but the entire empire. Reports about the air in these settlements were said to be filled with the overwhelming stench of rot and death. The bodies of the villagers were filled with hideous blights and blisters. When one of the bodies were examined it seemed that some sort of illness or plague of some kind festered inside these poor unlucky sods, killing them slowly from the insides. It was said that those that died must have suffered tremendously as their organs, flesh, and bones slowly dissolved, leaving nothing behind but a gelatinous gooey substance.

"Though, I can't help but wonder… what does the general want with the young miss lieutenant joining the discussion? Does she have anything special to add? Exarch K'hlen asked as his face contorted into a twisted-looking, hideous smirk, gazing at the stout standing woman looking at a statue beside the general. "Or maybe, does she have some… other uses?" He asked, smirking nastily.

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>>>Check out my latest novel: The Strongest Demon Lord in the Modern World<<

It's an urban modern-day styled story, with a reverse transmigrated ('Banished') immortal entity from the fantastical world of Nova!

Planned Tags and Genre:  # CULTIVATION  # R18  # BETRAYAL  # TRANSMIGRATION  # URBAN  # ACTION  # ANTIHERO  # OVERPOWERED (romance maybe at some later point)

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