The Play-Toy Of Three Lycan Kings-Chapter 432: Last Mission II

SAGE

The hall was filled to the brim.

Bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, breath to breath, the air thick with anticipation and the restless heat of a crowd already half-whipped into frenzy.

The great hall of Zophar had always been impressive, but today it felt... swollen. Overburdened. Like the very walls were straining under the weight of what was about to unfold.

High arched ceilings stretched overhead, etched with ancient runes that pulsed faintly in the torchlight. Long banners hung between the stone pillars—deep crimson, forest green, midnight blue—each bearing the sigils of the surrounding communities.

And at the far end was the platform. It was raised high and so looked commanding. The queen stood there mid-speech. Her jaw slackened as she took note of my presence.

For half a heartbeat, the entire hall froze in a suspended moment of disbelief. For diverse reasons, especially different from the Queen.

Then my gaze sharpened as I saw them. The rulers of the three neighboring communities—each flanked by their chosen warriors, all dressed in full battle uniform. Armor polished. Weapons strapped tight. Banners lifted high behind them in silent declaration of allegiance.

Exactly like my vision.

My stomach turned cold. They had come prepared for war. This wasn’t just a final discussion or negotiation. All that had been done and dusted. They had probably been talking about routes and methods when I had interrupted them with my presence.

My jaw set. Well, no. Not today.

My gaze swept further, and landed on Raul and Rachel. The moment I saw their faces, I knew the seed I had planted had taken root.

Good.

They looked... wrong. Disoriented. Torn. Still shell-shocked. And that’s why I had timed the planting perfectly, I didn’t want shenanigans when I accosted the Queen. And... I was giving them a second chance... to fight on my side.

Rachel’s fingers curled tightly into her skirts, knuckles pale, her eyes darting between me and the queen with visible strain. Raul’s usual composure was fractured, his jaw tight, his brow pulled low as something ugly and uncertain churned behind his eyes.

Even Duke—whom I had extended that last-second courtesy to—looked unsettled, his posture stiff with unease.

A small, private smirk tugged at my lips. It had worked.

But it was the queen’s expression that truly satisfied something inside me.

Shock. Pure and undeniable. It flickered across her face before she could mask it—before the practiced ruler’s composure slid hurriedly back into place.

Too late.

I had seen it. And judging by the rising murmurs rippling through the crowd... so had everyone else.

Then her shock shifted quickly into something far uglier. Anger. One that was hot and spitting, one barely contained. Especially as more and more people began bowing in my direction, thinking I was the first Queen’s messenger.

I kept walking. Slow, measured, unhurried. The crowd parted for me like water around a blade, whispers swelling in my wake. Their reverence pressed against my skin like electricity.

"The goddess’s messenger has come..."

"Where do you think she comes from?"

"Why do you think the Queen looks like that... shouldn’t she be happy that we have received a seal of the goddess’ blessing..."

"Oh my goodness... the resemblance is uncanny... It’s like being granted a privilege to see the first queen..."

"Do you think she will follow us to war?!"

"I hope she follows us... so we can get rid of those dogs!"

I didn’t blame them.

Meanwhile, the queen said nothing at first.

Not until I reached the base of the platform. Then—

She snapped.

"That woman is nothing but a witch like the rest of you!" her voice rang sharp across the hall. "A cursed one at that. An anomaly. She is no messenger of our good goddess!... and cannot be the goddess!!"

I laughed. Soft at first. Then louder. Mockery laced through every note. And that sound visibly unsettled the crowd.

Confusion flickered across dozens of faces as their gazes darted between us. Many of them were already noticing what the queen was clearly hoping they would ignore—

The mark on my forehead. And the identical marks glowing faintly on the sentinels behind me. Including the ones wearing the faces of people they trusted.

Doubt was a fragile thing. But once it cracked...

The queen opened her mouth again, clearly preparing to regain control of the narrative.

I cut her off smoothly. "Don’t bother," I said lightly, tilting my head. "You’ve been talking for quite a while now, haven’t you?"

She stilled. Just for a second. But the emotions flashing across her face at that moment were loud... There was rage, there was calculation. And beneath it? The sharp, murderous intent to kill me where I stood.

It only amused me more.

I turned away from her deliberately and faced the crowd fully. Claiming the space.

"The queen is right about one thing," I said clearly, my voice amplified just enough to carry cleanly through the packed hall—and beyond the open doors. A ripple of attention tightened across the room.

"I am not the goddess."

Murmurs stirred.

I let the pause stretch. Then— "But I was chosen by her."

Silence dropped heavier this time.

"To stop a queen she does not recognize."

A beat.

"A fake queen."

The words hit like thrown stones.

The queen’s composure cracked. "That is a lie!" she shouted, her hand already moving.

Magic shot toward me... dark, fast, vicious. I didn’t even flinch. With a lazy flick of my wrist, I dissolved it mid-air.

Gasps erupted across the hall. While the queen’s eyes widened just slightly.

Oh, she hated that.

I lifted my chin, voice rising stronger. "A queen who murdered her own sister to steal the throne."

The murmurs turned louder now, uneasy...

"A queen who carried on an affair with her own brother while keeping a husband for appearance."

That one landed harder.

Rachel visibly staggered, and Raul’s face went pale.

The queen’s control snapped further. "Enough!" she hissed.

But I wasn’t finished. Not even close.

I pushed more power into my voice, letting it roll outward—through the packed hall, through the open doors, into the waiting crowd outside.

"My people, I am your kin," I declared. "Dora. The one your queen marked for death."

Shock rippled, and recognition followed. Faces shifted as memory stirred.

"But the goddess chose to save me."

Then, I told them.

Not every tiny detail, but enough. Enough to break the illusion.

I spoke of Maya—the girl burdened, hunted, and manipulated long before she even understood why.

I spoke of becoming Dora. Of becoming Sage.

Of the quiet coaching the queen had given Claire behind closed doors. Of the potions slipped carefully into my path. Of the traps laid so subtly most of them had never even realized they existed.

I spoke of the deaths six years ago. The ones that had "mysteriously" secured the queen’s continued rule. The ones meant to ensure no one ever considered placing me on the seat she had stolen.

Faces in the crowd began to change. Horror, realization, anger as the truth woke up piece by piece.