In a far faraway, place, in the kingdom of Ken, was a man, he had Black hair, he looked larger than anyone else and was wearing armour, his sword was by his side, he sat on the throne of the once goddess now Slave, Celestine
[Insert image of Volt]
Volt looked at the message he received. "What do you mean, our people got mysteriously Sick?".
Next to him was A gracious, kind high elf with long golden hair, fair skin, and an ample bosom. She looked broken with white like Liquid covering her Brest and looking broken
[Insert image of Celestine]
Volt looked at the message he received. "What do you mean, our people got mysteriously sick?"
The trembling soldier kneeling before him didn't dare raise his head. "Y-Yes, Lord Volt. It began with the supply camps—men started vomiting, their skin turned purple, and within hours, they were dead. Even the beasts refused to eat their corpses…"
Volt's eyes glowed a faint crimson. The pressure in the hall became suffocating. "So, our supplies are gone, our men are dying, and the cause is unknown?"
The soldier nodded quickly. "We… we believe it's poison, My Lord. Every storage of food and drink has been tainted."
Volt's voice grew cold, his tone dripping with disdain. "Then find out who did this. I do not care if you have to burn every forest and gut every rebel."
He stood from his throne, towering and broad-shouldered, the sound of his armor echoing like thunder. Celestine, the once divine goddess, now knelt silently at his feet, her eyes hollow. Volt's gauntlet brushed her chin upward, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"Your followers are persistent," he said mockingly. "Even after their goddess has fallen, they dare to defy me. Tell me, Celestine… do you think your precious knights are behind this?"
Celestine's lips trembled, but no words came.
Volt smirked, releasing her chin. "No matter. Whoever dares to strike at me from the shadows will soon learn what true despair feels like."
He turned toward his generals gathered in the chamber. "Send out the Black Dogs. Have them secure every route leading to the frontlines. And double the rations for my personal guard. If someone wants to starve my army, they will find out just how long Volt can fight on rage alone."
The generals saluted, though one of them—the youngest—hesitated. "My lord, with respect… our men are losing faith. Some believe this is divine punishment."
Volt's smile faded. He reached for his sword. The young general didn't even have time to scream before his head rolled across the marble floor.
Volt's tone remained calm. "Then let that be their sermon. The gods are dead… and I am the only one they need fear."
The guards moved as one through the corridor, their armor clanking against the cold stone. Torches flickered along the walls, casting warped shadows that made the bloodstains on the floor look almost alive.
One of them, a young man with messy red hair and piercing blue eyes, finally broke the silence. "Why do we follow him?"
His voice echoed in the hall. The others stopped, turning toward him.
Another soldier—a bald man with a scar across his mouth—snorted. "Why? Because he's strong, idiot. He gave us what we wanted."
The red-haired guard's jaw tightened. "Right… this sex empire you all seem so proud of." His voice dripped with disgust. "Raping, killing, turning villages into toys for Volt's amusement—how long before we're no better than monsters?"
The bald man's grin widened. "You think we're not already? You joined us, didn't you? Don't act holy now."
The red-haired guard glared at him, hand twitching near his blade. "I joined because I thought we were bringing order. What we're doing isn't order—it's damnation."
A heavy silence fell between them. The others exchanged nervous glances. Then, without warning, the bald man stepped forward, his eyes glinting with cruelty. "Careful what you say, boy. Words like that could get you—"
Thud!
An arrow pierced the bald man's neck mid-sentence. He gurgled, dropping to his knees, clutching the shaft before collapsing.
The others froze.
The red-haired guard turned toward the darkness at the end of the hallway, where faint movement flickered between torchlights. "What the—"
A second arrow flew—then a third.
Panic erupted.
"AMBUSH! WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!"
The red-haired guard ducked behind a pillar as more arrows rained down. He peered through the smoke and shadows—catching a glimpse of black hoods moving with precision and silence.
And among them, a familiar banner fluttered briefly in the torchlight—
the sigil of the Black Wolf.
The red-haired guard's eyes widened. "The rebellion… they're already inside the city!?"
Meanwhile, below the city streets, a small squad moved through the shadows — their guide, the infernal wolf Fenrir, padding silently ahead. His golden eyes gleamed faintly in the dim torchlight as his nose twitched, tracking the faint scent of iron and stagnant water.
They weren't here to burn the city down or raise chaos.
No — Aiden's plan was sharper than that.
Their target was the underground aqueduct — the veins that carried fresh water to Volt Castle.
A single drop of Jormungandr's diluted venom would turn the royal water supply into a curse.
Enough to weaken Volt's army, but not enough to harm the innocent.
That was Aiden's condition.
Ederra crouched near the group, his expression serious beneath his hood. The faint sound of footsteps above — drunken guards laughing — echoed down the tunnels.
He turned toward one of the younger soldiers, the same man who had fired the earlier arrow that killed the bald Volt soldier. "Damn it, I get it," Ederra whispered sharply, "he was the bastard who captured your mother. But this is a stealth mission, not vengeance."
The younger soldier lowered his head, trembling slightly. "I… I couldn't stop myself, Commander. I saw his face and—"
Ederra placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Control your rage. Save it for when the time comes — for when we end Volt's rule. Right now, we follow Aiden's orders."
Fenrir let out a low growl to get their attention and nodded toward the narrow stone channel ahead — the waterway glimmering faintly in the torchlight.
Ederra straightened, signaling the others forward. "Alright," he said quietly, "this is it. Make sure the mixture goes in evenly. No more, no less."
As the soldiers began pouring the carefully measured vials into the flow, faint wisps of purple swirled in the water — vanishing as quickly as they appeared.
Ederra exhaled slowly. "Let's move. Before anyone notices we were here."
Fenrir glanced back once, baring his fangs in a quiet grin. "Master's plan will work. Volt will never see this coming."
Meanwhile back in Emilia Camp. Few minutes earlier
Emilia's brow furrowed as she folded the cloth of the captured banner in her hands. "Why did you have them take a different flag — not the one we use? That could confuse our people."
Aiden's grin was casual, almost lazy. "Because Volt doesn't know I exist. They still believe you're the only one leading the rebellion. If they see another banner out there — one that looks like a rebel force but isn't ours — they'll assume there are multiple factions. Confusion breeds mistakes. Maybe they'll reposition, maybe they'll point fingers. Either way, they'll waste time, men, and resources."
Radomira chuckled, folding her wings neatly. "And then while they're busy blaming each other, we pick the bones. Subtle. Delicious."
Emilia's fingers smoothed the banner until the creases softened, eyes still fixed on the black sigil. She didn't look up when Aiden answered—she didn't need to. The strategist in her had already begun to map the possibilities out loud.
"You're going to have them suspect internal revolt," she said slowly, each word measured. "They'll scramble to secure supply convoys, issue counterorders, and—if we're lucky—accuse commanders who were already stretched thin. Their command will be fractured before they even realize the food's poisoned."
Aiden gave a lazy, satisfied smile. "Exactly. The point isn't just to break their belly—it's to fracture their lines of trust. A soldier who thinks his captain sold him out is worth less than a dead captain."
Radomira folded her wings and hummed, that low amusement in her voice. "So many delicious little panics to choose from. Do tell me which one turns Volt's generals to cannibal-level paranoia first."
Emilia finally met Radomira's eyes. "Don't tempt me to feed you a map of their ego rankings." She glanced over at Ederra and the officers gathered around. "We'll plant evidence. A forged dispatch here, a staged retreat there. Make the accusations look credible. And keep our supply lines invisible—use forest routes and night movements."
Grace and Anna, who had been cataloging the poison test results nearby, traded a look and then nodded. "We'll prepare false runes and write one convincing forged order," Grace said. "Anna and I can replicate Volt's seal well enough to fool a cursory check." Anna's jaw tightened at the thought, but she already had the ink ready in her palm.
Fenrir padded forward and pressed his head against Aiden's leg, a short rumble vibrating through the king's knee. The big wolf's approval was quiet but absolute.
Ederra's voice cut in, practical as ever. "We must also make sure the villages know whom to blame if Volt retaliates. We move civilians tonight to the western outpost. If Volt lashes out, they meet our shield, not their vengeance." He looked at Emilia. "And we keep our scouts ready to stir rumors that Volt commanders are hoarding supplies for themselves."
Emilia allowed herself the hint of a smile. "Good. Precision and misdirection. We win the information war, then the supply war, then the territory." She folded the captured flag and handed it to one of her lieutenants. "Send this to the eastern villages with a rider. Let them find it at dawn."
A low murmur of approval rolled through the tent. Plans slid into place like gears turning: false flags to be planted, forged orders to be distributed, poisoned rations to be staged at chokepoints. The alchemists finished labeling antidote kits to carry with each strike team. The smiths hammered out extra magi-steel fittings for hidden caches. The freed women were quietly moved toward the outposts where they would be safe and could testify if Volt tried to spin the narrative.
Aiden looked around at the camp—at the tired faces, the newly forged weapons, the small sparks of hope—and felt something warm and steady settle into him. "One clever move," he said, "and we don't have to smash every fortress by force. We make their empire rot from within."
Radomira's smile was wolfish and approving. "Rot is such a poetic verb. I'll bring a sickle."
Emilia shot her a look that was half-exasperation, half-gratitude. "Keep the poetry. I want them to lose without burning our villages."
Outside, a scout returned with news before the dusk fully sealed the sky: a small Volt patrol had been seen arguing under the old stone bridge, two captains shouting about misplaced wagons and missing seals. By the time Volt's commanders had formed their complaints, the first village messenger would already be riding away with the staged flag.
Aiden watched the scout go and then looked at Emilia. "Ready?"
She braced her shoulders—the weight of command settling over her like armor. "Ready."
They set the plan in motion that night: targeted sabotage, quiet redistribution, and misinformation threaded through Volt's own channels. The first ripples would hit at dawn—confusion, blame, the slow spread of distrust. That was when the real work began: turning the cracks into chasms and making sure Volt never trusted its own shadow again.
Ederra's eyes tracked the two Volt commanders arguing under the bridge, their voices sharp even from a distance. He allowed himself the smallest of grim smiles. "They're still bickering," he said, voice low. "They'll eat their own confusion long before they can form a proper plan." He looked back at the men and women gathered around him — scouts, smiths, and veterans — all hooded and ready.
"You're one hell of a smart slime, Aiden," he added, voice soft but sincere. The compliment landed heavier than Aiden expected.
Aiden gave a short, proud nod, the faint gold in his eyes flickering like coals. "Tactics are just applied laziness," he said lightly. "Make the enemy do the hard work for us."
Ederra turned, meeting his captains' gazes with steel. "Spread the poison along this side of the kingdom. Hit their outposts, the granaries, the river fords — anywhere they rely on for quick resupply. Make sure it's surgical: no villages, no wells that civilians use. Only military caches." He pointed to a set of small maps laid out on a flat rock, each marked with the runes Grace had prepared.
The men snapped to action. Two squads melted into the trees and vanished like ghosts; others took hidden paths toward the old ford where Volt's militia kept temporary stores. Anna and Grace lingered for a moment with Ederra, checking the sigils on the vials and nodding approval at the dosages.
Fenrir nosed the earth once, then padded forward to lead a small strike team to harry approaching patrols and cover their withdrawal routes. Jörmungandr slid away into the brush to lay down faint, contaminating trails where only soldiers would walk.
"Remember," Ederra warned, voice low and commanding, "clean strikes. If they suspect a village was involved, we pull them out and leave no trace. And report back if anything unexpected happens."
Aiden watched his people split away into the darkness, each moving like a well-oiled gear in a machine tuned for subversion. He felt the familiar thrill of a plan unfolding — not just force, but cunning, misdirection, and the quiet cruelty of hitting a beast where it thinks it's safest.
As shadows swallowed the last of the squads, Ederra glanced back once more. "When this starts to unravel, we strike the fortresses that hesitate. We don't waste time convincing cowards — we take what they can't hold."
Aiden's smile was small, satisfied. "Then let them argue while we feast."
Back in the current time
Ederra's eyes tracked the two Volt commanders arguing under the bridge, their voices sharp even from a distance. He allowed himself the smallest of grim smiles. "They're still bickering," he said, voice low. "They'll eat their own confusion long before they can form a proper plan." He looked back at the men and women gathered around him — scouts, smiths, and veterans — all hooded and ready.
"You're one hell of a smart slime, Aiden," he added, voice soft but sincere. The compliment landed heavier than Aiden expected.
Aiden gave a short, proud nod, the faint gold in his eyes flickering like coals. "Tactics are just applied laziness," he said lightly. "Make the enemy do the hard work for us."
Ederra turned, meeting his captains' gazes with steel. "Spread the poison along this side of the kingdom. Hit their outposts, the granaries, the river fords — anywhere they rely on for quick resupply. Make sure it's surgical: no villages, no wells that civilians use. Only military caches." He pointed to a set of small maps laid out on a flat rock, each marked with the runes Grace had prepared.
The men snapped to action. Two squads melted into the trees and vanished like ghosts; others took hidden paths toward the old ford where Volt's militia kept temporary stores. Anna and Grace lingered for a moment with Ederra, checking the sigils on the vials and nodding approval at the dosages.
Fenrir nosed the earth once, then padded forward to lead a small strike team to harry approaching patrols and cover their withdrawal routes. Jörmungandr slid away into the brush to lay down faint, contaminating trails where only soldiers would walk.
"Remember," Ederra warned, voice low and commanding, "clean strikes. If they suspect a village was involved, we pull them out and leave no trace. And report back if anything unexpected happens."
Aiden watched his people split away into the darkness, each moving like a well-oiled gear in a machine tuned for subversion. He felt the familiar thrill of a plan unfolding — not just force, but cunning, misdirection, and the quiet cruelty of hitting a beast where it thinks it's safest.
As shadows swallowed the last of the squads, Ederra glanced back once more. "When this starts to unravel, we strike the fortresses that hesitate. We don't waste time convincing cowards — we take what they can't hold."
Aiden's smile was small, satisfied. "Then let them argue while we feast."
To be continued
Hope people like this ch and give me power stones and enjoy