I Was Mistaken for the Reincarnated Evil Overlord-Chapter 73: The Queen is Dead

The moment the Queen's final shriek echoed into silence, a shift passed through the battlefield like a thunderclap made of air. The oppressive weight in the atmosphere lightened, as if the very forest exhaled.

In Darin's arms, the Sorceress lay limp, her skin pale, her robe torn and charred at the edges from overexertion. She hadn't said a word since she fell. Her breathing was shallow but steady, and that was the only reason Darin hadn't started screaming.

Then, in the chaos of the stunned army around him, a voice thundered across the clearing:

"THE QUEEN IS DEAD!"

Vincent stood atop a crushed ant warrior, one foot planted dramatically on its head like it was a trophy. His sword was drenched in ichor, his face smeared with sweat, dirt, and sheer triumph.

"KILL THEM ALL!" he roared, voice ragged with exhaustion but filled with unrelenting fire. "THEY'RE MINDLESS NOW! WITHOUT HER, THEY'RE JUST BUGS!"

A tremor went through the army.

And then the company surged.

The cultists were the first to move, screaming praises to the Overlord as they crashed into the disorganized ants. Where before the creatures had flanked and struck with military precision, now they simply charged, or fled at random.

Coordination had collapsed. The hive was blind.

Meanwhile both steve and grumble did what they do best, spread chaos on the retreating ants.

Darin felt the change in the air. The rhythm of battle had shifted. Now, they were the predators.

"Looks like they're taking your advice," the Overlord said in his mind, tone less sarcastic than usual. "Well done. That was a queen-level entity. She's not even cold and they're already making soup from her children."

Darin glanced down at the Sorceress again. Her lips were parted, murmuring something unintelligible. Probably dreaming of incinerating something. Maybe someone. He adjusted her slightly in his arms, then looked up.

Across the field, Alvin was already elbow-deep in a dead ant mage's thorax, cursing as he yanked out a shimmering purple core.

"damn slippery little bastards, hold still!"

Nearby, a pile of drained ant warriors surrounded him. His armor was dented, soaked in fluids he probably didn't want to identify, and his hair stuck up at strange angles. But the manic glint in his eyes said he was having the time of his life.

"Alvin, maybe wait until the swarm's fully dead?" Darin called out, voice dry.

Alvin waved him off. "I'm multitasking!"

The soldiers, mercs, and even some of the witches were doing the same, harvesting cores, salvaging chitin, hacking off mandibles the size of spears. The more experienced ones were already forming mobile butcher squads to prep the valuable bits for transport.

The sect master of the cultists approached in slow, deliberate steps.

Despite the blood and madness around them, he looked entirely composed, robes unblemished, silver embroidery gleaming in the low light like starlight on oil.

In his gloved hands, he held a crystalline core the size of a grown man's head.

It pulsed.

Dimly. Erratically. But with unmistakable power.

"Overlord," the sect master said, dropping to one knee.

His voice was reverent, but not trembling. It carried the poise of one used to commanding armies.

"The core of the Queen Ant," he said. "She fell under your divine plan, as all enemies shall."

He bowed deeper and raised the core toward Darin like a sacred offering.

Behind him, the elders of the cult knelt as well, whispering oaths under their breath. Their faces were flushed from the exertion of the sky-battle they'd just endured, none of them untouched by cuts or burns—but they still wore expressions of fierce pride.

Darin blinked at them.

Then looked at the massive core.

Then down at the Sorceress, still unconscious in his arms.

Then back at the core.

"Uh," he said. "Thanks?"

The Overlord cackled in his mind. "Oh, I like him. And this is great. That's a condensed mana lattice stronger than most city-state reservoirs. You could buy a kingdom with that thing."

"Or level one," Darin muttered.

"Exactly!"

The Sect Master, oblivious to the banter in Darin's head, rose gracefully and tucked the core into a specially-designed stasis pouch glowing with ancient runes.

"We shall carry it in your honor," he said solemnly. "Let your enemies tremble at the symbol of your victory."

Darin, who was still clutching an unconscious woman and barely remembered to eat breakfast this morning, just gave a thumbs-up.

"Right. Yes. Trembling. Excellent."

Before the awkward silence could stretch, Vincent jogged over, sword slung across his back, looking like he'd just come out of a hurricane and enjoyed every second of it.

"You're alive!" he said brightly. "I mean, obviously, but still. Figured I'd check."

He squinted at the Sorceress in Darin's arms. "She dead?"

"No."

"Too tired to incinerate me?"

"Yes."

"Good. I'm going to steal her wine stash while I still can."

"She doesn't have a wine stash."

"She absolutely does. And if not, I'll make one and say it was hers."

Darin shook his head. "You're the worst."

Vincent grinned and turned, shouting across the field again. "ALVIN, HOW MANY CORES YOU GOT?"

Alvin held up both hands. "Ten! And one weird one that tried to bite me!"

The war zone had devolved into chaotic cleanup.

Men and women rested where they could, collapsing onto rocks or supply crates or simply the corpses of fallen ants. Mages floated between units to heal the wounded. Some soldiers wept in exhaustion. Others laughed. A few simply stared, unsure how they were still alive.

The ants, now disorganized and panicked, had scattered into the deeper forest. A few stragglers were still being hunted down by eager squads of cultists and mercs.

The final body count was rising, but slowly.

"Two hours to the edge of the forest," one of the officers called out to Darin. "We think we can make it with minimal resistance now."

Darin nodded absently.

But his attention was on the Sorceress.

She stirred faintly in his arms. Eyes fluttered open, just barely.

"…did we win?"

Her voice was dry, cracked.

Darin looked at her, relief blooming in his chest like a second heartbeat.

"Yeah," he said. "You did it. You really did it."

She smirked faintly, and her eyes closed again.

"Good," she mumbled. "Next time, you fight the spell war."

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And then she passed back out.

Darin chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

The Overlord's voice chimed in again, low and thoughtful.

"Back when Duke Varian kicked your teeth in, I didn't think you'd last a week."

"I didn't either," Darin replied honestly.

"Still can't break ant armor without help," the Overlord added smugly.

"Yeah, yeah."

"But you held the line," the voice said. "You gave orders. You didn't panic. You inspired a cult of lunatics to follow you through hell and back."

Darin arched a brow. "Is that… praise?"

"Don't let it go to your head."

Darin just smiled.

The wind picked up, rustling the burned trees of the forest. Fires smoldered in the distance. The sky above the canopy was beginning to lighten, dawn approaching.

The forest was almost behind them.

The ants defeated.

The Queen dead.

"Come on," Darin muttered, standing with the Sorceress still in his arms. "Let's get out of this cursed place."

The cultists fell in beside him.

The sect master moved like a general returning home.

Alvin cursed as another core zapped his fingers.

And Vincent, now standing on yet another corpse, screamed to the skies:

"TRY AGAIN, NATURE! WE'LL KILL YOUR WHOLE ECOSYSTEM IF WE HAVE TO!"