The Umbral Palace was a fortress of protocol, but to a woman with Level 1 Peak Mental Power, its security was full of holes. Riha didn't want a parade; she wanted the truth. She knew that as long as she sat on the Throne of Shards, her ministers would only tell her what they wanted her to hear.
In the silence of her private chambers, Riha concentrated. Her Black Hole Core spun in reverse, drawing her aura inward until she felt like a ghost. With a flick of her wrist, she used a basic illusion scroll from the Earth ruins. Her striking black-and-red regal hair shimmered and shifted, turning into a vibrant, grassy emerald green. She swapped her heavy imperial robes for a simple, dusty-brown linen tunic and trousers—the kind worn by apprentice merchants.
"I'll be back by midnight," Riha whispered to her reflection. Her eyes, usually a piercing violet, now looked like common jade.
She stepped onto the balcony and, with a lightness that belied her 50-ton physical resistance, she vanished into the shadows, scaling the palace walls and dropping into the bustling streets of the capital, Umbralys.
[The Taste of Freedom]
The capital was a labyrinth of neon-lit stalls and dark stone alleys. The air smelled of ozone, roasted meat, and damp earth. For the first time in months, Riha felt a sense of peace. No one was bowing. No one was trembling.
She stopped at a street vendor selling Glow-Skewers—a local delicacy of marinated monster meat that shimmered in the dark. She bit into one, the spicy, tangy juices reminding her of the street food back on Earth.
"Business is good, uncle?" she asked the vendor casually, leaning against his stall.
The old man sighed, wiping his brow. "Good? Child, the Empress—bless her—might have brought gold, but the tax collectors haven't changed their spots. They take forty percent before the sun even sets. And if you don't pay? Well, people just... disappear."
Riha's jade eyes narrowed. "Disappear? You mean the dungeons?"
The man looked around nervously and lowered his voice. "Worse. Young girls, mostly. Apprentices, daughters of bakers... gone in the night. They say the Shadow-Wraiths take them, but I think it's something with two legs and a greedy heart."
[The Noodle Shop Trap]
Riha thanked him and moved deeper into the Lower District. Her mental pulse was scanning the area, but she was intentionally keeping her guard low to blend in. She found a small, crowded noodle shop tucked under a crumbling stone archway. The steam from the giant pots carried a rich, savory aroma that made her stomach growl.
She sat on a wooden stool and ordered a bowl of Midnight Broth. The shopkeeper, a woman with a scarred face, served her with a shaky hand.
Riha took a deep sip. It was delicious—earthy and thick. But as she reached the bottom of the bowl, a strange sensation washed over her. It wasn't a physical pain; it was a mental fog. Her Black Hole Core flared, trying to neutralize a toxin, but this wasn't just poison—it was a Spirit-Dampening Herb, specifically designed to numb the nervous system of high-level cultivators.
"Wait... this is..." Riha's vision blurred. The wooden table seemed to melt. She tried to stand, her 50-ton strength failing as her motor neurons disconnected. Her head hit the table with a soft thud.
[The Awakening]
When Riha opened her eyes, the world was cold and damp. She wasn't in a noodle shop. She was in a stone cellar, her wrists bound by Magic-Suppressing Iron chains.
She looked around. The room was filled with about a dozen other girls, all in various states of terror. Some were crying quietly; others were catatonic.
"You're awake," a voice whispered. A girl with ragged hair sat next to her. "Don't struggle. The more you pull, the more the iron drains your energy. They'll be back soon to 'sort' us for the transport."
"Transport to where?" Riha asked, her voice raspy. She felt her Black Hole Core slowly eating through the herb's effects. She could break these chains in a second, but she stayed still. She wanted to see the face of the person running this operation.
"To the slave markets in the Solari Dominion," the girl sobbed. "The collectors get a bounty for every 'healthy' girl they bring."
Riha's blood turned to ice. It wasn't just corruption; it was human—or rather, Shadow-people—trafficking. Right under her nose.
[The Palace Panic]
Back at the Umbral Palace, the atmosphere was the opposite of calm.
Mina, Riha's personal maid and the only person she truly trusted with her secrets, was pacing the Empress's bedchamber. The clock had struck midnight, and the secret passage remained closed.
"She's not back," Mina whispered, her face pale. She knew Riha was strong, but the Empress had many enemies.
Mina ran to the barracks of the Eclipse Guard. She found the Captain and Kaelen Vane. "She went out," Mina blurted out, tears in her eyes. "She went into the city as a commoner with green hair. She hasn't returned!"
Kaelen Vane's shadowy form expanded in a burst of cold fury. "You let the Sovereign walk into the Lower District alone?"
"She commanded it!" Mina cried.
Kaelen didn't waste time. He summoned a Tracking Spirit—a small, skeletal bird made of pure purple essence. He placed a strand of Riha's hair (found on her pillow) into the spirit's beak.
"Find the Source," Kaelen commanded.
The spirit let out a silent shriek and took flight, glowing with a dark light. It didn't fly toward the marketplace; it dove straight toward the sewers beneath the industrial district.
"Follow it!" Kaelen roared to the Bermuda Puppets. "If a single hair on her head is harmed, I will level the entire Lower District!"
[The Cellar]
In the damp cellar, the heavy iron door groaned open. A man in the uniform of the Imperial Tax Ministry walked in, accompanied by several hulking mercenaries.
"This one," the Minister pointed at Riha, his eyes greedy. "The green-haired one. She has a high-quality frame. The Solari Prince will pay double for her."
Riha looked up through her emerald bangs. Her mental fog was gone. Her Black Hole Core was now fully charged, and her Phase 1 Synchronization with her staff (which was hidden in her pocket-dimension) was humming.
"You're the Tax Minister," Riha said, her voice eerily calm.
"I'm the man who owns you now, girl," he sneered, reaching down to grab her chin.
Riha smiled. It wasn't a pretty smile. "I don't think you can afford the price of this 'item'."
Far above, the sound of rhythmic, metallic footsteps began to shake the ceiling. The Bermuda Puppets had arrived.