The church returned to a dead silence, intertwined only with the clamor of the pouring rain outside the window and the heavy stench of blood.
Hysilens's deep blue eyes pierced through the permeating Aura of Death, ultimately fixing upon that familiar figure on the throne.
The knuckles of her hand gripping the sword hilt turned slightly pale from exerting force.
"Imperator..." she finally spoke. Her voice was cold, yet carried an imperceptible tremor. "You..."
After uttering this word, her speech came to an abrupt halt, leaving only a title drifting in the bloody air.
Cerydra took in her hesitation entirely and let out a soft sigh.
"Dux Gladiorum," her voice remained calm, yet held an added affability not present before. "I am aware of your doubts, but the answer may not be what you desire—I am not the Imperator from your memories."
Hysilens fell silent.
This sentence, like an icy arrow, accurately pierced a certain hidden wound of hers.
She lowered her eyes, her gaze briefly sweeping over the bead of blood lingering on the blade edge of the bow-sword, as if she could see the deeper golden yellow through this drop of blood.
When she raised her eyes again, the complex emotions surging within them were forcefully suppressed, leaving only a silence akin to the deep sea.
"Although..." she paused, her voice exceptionally steady and containing a certain firmness, "...I do not know what kind of power caused you to descend here once more, my bow shall always play for you, and I am still the sharpest sword in your hand."
That loyalty branded deep within her soul was like a shackle, yet also like her sole anchor point.
"..."
Cerydra stared at her. After a moment of silence, she spoke, her tone carrying a hint of inquiry and... a certain imperceptible probing:
"Then, Dux Gladiorum, are you willing to stay? With my current power, it is enough to let you reside in this world for a long time, rather than merely acting as a chess piece responding to a summon."
After these words, Hysilens's body stiffened almost imperceptibly for a moment.
This silence was longer than before. Only the crisp sound of raindrops beating against the stained glass windows remained in the hall.
"Dux Gladiorum," Cerydra's voice slowed down further, seemingly giving her space to think, or perhaps emphasizing a certain boundary. "I cherish this loyalty, and I understand its weight."
"However... true loyalty requires clearly discerning the 'existence' it belongs to."
She deliberately emphasized the last word.
"You need not deliver this answer to me immediately."
Hysilens slowly took a deep breath—although this subtle action appeared exceptionally clear against the backdrop of her semi-transparent abdomen.
"Alright, Imperator..." Her voice lowered, and she nodded slightly. "Please... let me return."
Seeing this, Cerydra spoke no more.
Her right hand brushed over the chessboard. The piece symbolizing the "Queen" silently turned into specks of faint light and dissipated completely.
Hysilens, standing between the pool of blood and corpses, took one last deep look at Cerydra on the throne right at the end before the piece was erased.
Subsequently, her figure was like a sand painting blown away by the wind; her silhouette rapidly became blurry and transparent, eventually fully integrating into the cold air without leaving the slightest trace.
At this moment, within the massive, empty, messy, and blood-permeated hall, only Cerydra sitting alone on the throne remained.
...
"Lady Imperator?"
Time passed quietly. When the sounds of battle had ceased echoing from deep within the church for a long time, several cultists who had distanced themselves earlier returned cautiously with hesitation and probing.
Hearing this voice, Cerydra turned her head. Her gaze swept indifferently over these returning figures, her voice calm and unrippled:
"The intruders who intended to destroy this place have all been eliminated by my soldiers. You will handle the remaining matters."
With that, she said no more. After standing up from the throne, she walked straight across the blood-scented hall, heading towards her room deep within the church.
The cultists, after looking at the messy corpses and the glaring pools of blood in the hall, silently began the cleanup work.
The door closed gently behind her, cutting off the disturbances of the outside world.
Cerydra shed that deliberate composure almost instantly. Her body swayed slightly, and she fell heavily onto the soft bed.
She raised her arm to cover her eyes, wanting to isolate the outside light along with her chaotic thoughts.
"Hysilens..."
This name slowly tumbled from her mouth.
That black-and-purple figure, those blue eyes containing complex emotions, and that final silent gaze resurfaced repeatedly and incredibly clearly in her mind.
After initially finishing assimilating the abilities, she had already known the "existence" corresponding to each chess piece.
When she saw that the piece symbolizing the "Queen" pointed to Hysilens, she was somewhat shocked, but quickly felt that this was almost the only answer.
If Cerydra was the "King" of this chess game, then who else but Hysilens could be the "Queen" standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her and possessing formidable power?
But... she was not the true "Cerydra."
This heavy loyalty, this faith that viewed "Imperator" as the sole salvation and light—how was she supposed to bear it? And how should she respond to it?
Precisely because of this, at the moment she summoned the "Queen" piece, she had held a sliver of wishful thinking in her heart.
Because she could clearly perceive that the other pieces were merely constructs formed by power, mere projections that completely obeyed her commands. Then, was Hysilens... also just a stronger phantom among them?
Therefore, using this incident with the blue-haired youth as an opportunity, carrying this probing intent, she placed that "Queen" piece.
However, she was wrong.
Just as she could easily discern the illusory nature of the other pieces, so too could she perceive incredibly clearly that the Hysilens who stepped out from the chessboard was absolutely no projection...
Slowly moving her arm away from her eyes, a trace of faint blue fluorescence condensed and took shape in Cerydra's open right palm, ultimately turning into a pale blue "Queen" piece flowing with an eerie light.
Her fingertips gently stroked the cold patterns on the chess piece, and a heavy question weighed at the bottom of her heart:
Since it was known that this piece carried Hysilens's true body...
Then... could she still...
Use it again with peace of mind?