My Mansion of Gorgeous Maids in Another World-Chapter 52: The Dragon Empress

"Cerven."

A crimson lightning bolt lanced from the earth into the cloud‑sea above, bleaching color, choking scent, and swallowing sound in its wake. An instant later thunder split the heavens, and scarlet branches blossomed through the roiling white expanse.

The woman who had gathered those clouds lowered her sword and bowed, sheltered by the crimson canopy as she paid silent homage to her master’s might.

Each peal of thunder hammered the hearts of the dragons above, draining their resolve. They scanned the sky for the caster of that power, yet his voice seemed to echo from within their own chests, and terror took root.

Humans and their dragon‑slayer companions could only stare, too awed to cheer, instinctively certain the storm favored them. A handful of knights fixed on a single figure beneath the crimson veil—silver hair, a sword, and a peculiar mix of suit jacket and maid skirt. Even the one‑armed Duke Stormcloud gaped, slack‑jawed.

Such a monstrous command of wind! Silver hair, a sword, that bizarre outfit... no one else but Lady Eleonora could wield such power. The Warden is here!

Thunder rolled as if to confirm the thought.

Inside his mansion carriage, Jett stood motionless, every drop of focus tied to the swelling tempest above. Eleonora’s dominion had drawn the clouds to him, sparing his mana, yet one Cerven would never halt a sky full of dragons. He poured power into the skill, forcing each bolt to split and replicate until the cloud ocean seethed with red arcs.

At last he lowered his raised hand and slipped it into his pocket.

"Crimson Storm."

BANG!

An avalanche of scarlet spears raked the sky, each bolt punching through leathery wings and flinging colossal bodies like embers from a forge. Roars curdled to wet hisses, lost beneath the storm’s cannon‑crack, as smoking carcasses spiraled across the blood‑red cloud layer.

The barrage kept falling, jagged columns driving the eldest dragons face‑first into the capital’s unseen bulwark—scales screeched against invisible stone, and their assault died with a final metallic grind.

Yet no dragon perished, for that was the Warden’s will.

Ugh! Who in the world is that?

...

Far beneath the dragon capital, wicked draconic souls drifted through the Dragon Catacombs, their cloud‑like forms the sole light in that frozen canyon of bone‑strewn tombs. A balcony of midnight obsidian jutted from the wall, its hidden runes warding off trespassers.

There the Dragon Empress stood, hands tucked into the trailing sleeves of a shoulderless, Japanese‑inspired violet yukata trimmed with gold.

The silk dipped low to bare alabaster shoulders and reveal a glimpse of cleavage. A single pin held her purple hair in a neat bun, exposing tapered ears sharper than any mortal race’s, while the daring neckline framed her chest—the violet fabric clinging to her curves and parting to hint at the pale valley between her breasts. Twin black horns crowned her delicate head, their obsidian sheen announcing icy authority. Yet the pearly lustre along her exposed collarbones, softened by a faint flush, breathed illicit warmth as her emerald gaze fixed far beyond the abyss upon the Crimson Storm.

"H‑Her Majesty!" A bespectacled scribe skidded to the rail. "The troops in the catacombs can feel Your mood. Please, at least pretend to smile!"

"It is not Us," she answered, voice chilling the very air. "The Warden has arrived, and his power scours our kin."

"Not You? And the Warden has been chosen? That’s wonderful! Your twin sist—Ooga!"

With an imperious flick, she dismissed him down the corridor. Irritation tightened her features before her cold poise returned.

"The Warden does not discriminate," she said once he dared inch back. "Equilibrium is his first creed. The Warden Mansion has long sacrificed many for that balance, and he will do the same. Our Guardian is a coward; The Warden will side with humans, break the pact forged by the last Warden, and erase Skytianeus to leave the seat vacant."

"Your Majesty, forgive my boldness, but isn’t that far too grim a reading of him?"

She waved him away again.

"Ooga!"

Moments later the catacomb ceiling shattered into starlit shards, revealing another continent bathed in blood, corpses, and the sharp scent of ozone. The cracked‑open ceiling spat out humans, lizards, and dragons, each plummeting into the abyss like broken toys.

"We judge that the Warden has failed." The Dragon Empress smiled.

"Indeed, he has failed." The breathy declaration drifted across the balcony like perfume, yet the Dragon Empress betrayed neither flicker nor frown. She merely turned, emerald eyes glacial, to regard the intruder who dared trespass upon her solitude.

The woman wore a black‑and‑white blouse with a tie and a matching checkered skirt. It was a uniform only Jett, schooled on Earth, would recognize. He would have deemed any mature woman wearing a school outfit peril incarnate. Knee‑high black socks completed the guise of modesty, but the stranger’s gaze shimmered with wicked delight, fouler than any soul entombed below, and heat coiled in the Empress’s blood—a fury even the catacomb chill could not quell.

"We see you flourish in slaughter, Harbinger. Answer Us—have you corrupted any of Our kin?"

The Harbinger’s sugar‑sweet smile thinned to a blade. "Why, of course. Your little wyrms were ready to kneel to the Warden—adorable, really. But only a sovereign who craves progress deserves such devotion, don’t you think? Any creature that bows elsewhere is... ripe for sacrifice." freeweɓnovel~cѳm

"Mind your tongue," the Empress said, voice cold as glacier glass. "Sacrifice is the scale We do not turn."

The Harbinger giggled, honey dripping from every word. "Oh, Your Majesty, it’s just a word. Surely you long to see the Warden undone. Allow me to help."

"We tire of this prattle. Any who belittle Our bond with Our twin shall meet oblivion at Our hand."

As the Dragon Empress raised her hand, the Harbinger answered with a syrupy smile and beckoned her forward. Meanwhile, hidden in the shadows, the Empress’s secretary ducked and shivered, powerless between two forces far beyond his reach.

...

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