SSS-Ranked Trash Hero: I Was Scammed Into Being Summoned-Chapter 99: Aria POV Part 2

The Castein duchy was not just a piece of land; it was a strategic asset. As Aria sat in her study, she visualized the map of the human empire. The Aldran Kingdom was one of four major powers that made up a loose, often bickering coalition.

Castein sat on the northeastern edge, tucked away from the immediate violence of the borders.

Three full kingdoms stood between her and the demon territories. This distance was her greatest weapon. While the border lords were busy bleeding their treasuries dry on fortifications and standing armies, Aria was consolidating wealth.

Eleanor had been smart enough to secure a monopoly on the largest private grain supply in the kingdom.

In a world where magic existed, people often forgot that soldiers still needed to eat. In a war economy, grain was more valuable than gold. By controlling the food, she controlled the pace of the kingdom’s heartbeat.

She had spent the last several months using Eleanor’s position with surgical precision.

She wasn’t being aggressive; she wasn’t demanding new lands or titles. Instead, she was building a web.

She had established information networks in the capital, bought the loyalty of minor nobles through "favorable trade agreements," and quietly observed the shifting tides of the empire’s court.

She needed to know the shape of the board before she made her first real move.

Her thoughts eventually drifted to the others. The "Other Heroes."

She knew she wasn’t alone. When she had been pulled into the dungeon, she had seen Kenji, Marcus and Hiroshi getting dragged too. They will probably be in the same situation as her.

"They are likely dispersed," she whispered to the empty room. Her voice was cool, lacking the warmth Eleanor usually used.

It was a simple deduction. If the dungeon were a game designer, it wouldn’t put all the high-level players in the same room. It would scatter them.

At least one of them had to be in demon territory. Placing a hero in the heart of the enemy’s land would create the kind of conflict and tension the dungeon seemed to thrive on.

She imagined that person’s life. Living among demons, perhaps hiding their identity, or perhaps forced to fight their way to the top of a much more brutal hierarchy.

It was a difficult path, much more physically demanding than her own. She didn’t pity them; pity was a useless emotion.

She simply filed the possibility away as a variable. Eventually, the dungeon would force their paths to cross. Until then, she would continue to build her fortress.

A sharp knock at the door broke her concentration.

"Enter," she said, shifting her posture to match the expectation of a Duchess.

The door creaked open, and a man stepped inside. This was Arthur, the chamberlain.

He was an elderly man with thinning hair and a back that had begun to bow under the weight of decades of service.

He had served the Castein family since Eleanor was a small child. He was one of the few people who looked at her not with fear, but with a lingering, fatherly fondness.

"Your Grace," he said, bowing low. He carried a silver tray with a fresh pot of tea and a small stack of personal correspondence. "The afternoon mail. And a fresh brew of the mountain leaf. You’ve been at that desk for five hours without a break."

Aria looked at him. Her clinical mind wanted to say: Put it down and leave. But as she opened her mouth, the "Eleanor residue" flared up.

She saw the way his hands trembled slightly as he set the tray down. She remembered, through Eleanor’s memories, that he had given her a wooden horse when she was six.

"Thank you, Arthur," she said. Her voice was quiet, and to her own ears, it sounded uncharacteristically soft. "I hadn’t realized the time. You look tired yourself. Ensure the kitchens send something substantial to your quarters tonight."

Arthur paused, a small, genuine smile touching his wrinkled face. "You are too kind, Your Grace. It is a pleasure to see you taking care of the people around you. You’ve been so... focused, lately. It is good to see the Duchess I know is still in there."

He bowed again and retreated, closing the door softly behind him.

Aria sat in the silence that followed. She felt a strange sensation in her chest, not quite guilt, not quite warmth, but something like a faint echo.

"Eleanor is doing it again," she muttered to the flickering shadows.

She wasn’t angry about it, which was the most confusing part. She had expected to hate this.

She had expected to find the remnants of a dead woman’s personality to be an obstacle. But instead, it was like discovering a new tool.

This "softness" allowed her to maintain the loyalty of people like Arthur. It made the machinery of the duchy run smoother.

She wasn’t becoming Eleanor, but she was allowing Eleanor’s influence to color her actions. It was an efficient compromise.

The room grew darker as the fire in the hearth began to die down. The staff had all gone to their own quarters, leaving Aria alone in the vast, echoing silence of the manor.

She stood up and walked toward the fireplace. She didn’t use a poker to stir the embers. Instead, she held out her hand, palm up. She focused on the heat lingering in the coals, the raw energy of the dying fire.

Slowly, a thin thread of flame detached itself from the logs. It didn’t flicker or roar; it flowed through the air like a ribbon of glowing silk. It hovered just inches above her palm, dancing in a slow, controlled spiral.

Aria watched it with a clinical intensity. She didn’t feel the heat as a burn; she felt it as a presence.

This was her power, a Tier 6 mastery over a force she had never asked for, yet understood perfectly.

She could turn this room into an inferno in a second. She could burn the entire castle to the ground if she chose.

Instead, she simply watched the flame.

The light from the small, glowing ribbon of fire twisted slowly around her slender fingers, and she could feel the way the raw energy hummed and vibrated against her pale skin.

It was a truly strange sensation to think about when she really sat with it.

On one hand, she had the power to end hundreds of lives with a single flick of her wrist or a simple thought.

On the other hand, her biggest struggle at this very moment was deciding which provincial lord she should appease with a grain discount and which one she should squeeze for more taxes.

She wondered if Kenji, Marcus, or Hiroshi were dealing with these same kinds of ironies in their own lives right now.

Were they also trapped in roles that they never chose for themselves? Were they currently fighting against the memories and personalities of the bodies they now called their home? She wondered if they had been lucky enough to land in a position of power, or if they were currently starving in some gutter.

Aria closed her hand, letting the fire dissipate into a faint, lingering trail of smoke.

She turned back toward her desk to finish the last of her paperwork when a sudden, sharp sensation pierced through her mind.

She snapped her eyes open as a notification window didn’t just appear, it flickered violently, turning a deep, bloody red that she had never seen before.

It overrode her current status screen, pulsing with an aggressive rhythm that made her heart race against her will.

The blacked-out text of her Main Quest didn’t reveal itself, but a new alert box sat right on top of it, screaming for her attention.

[WARNING: EVENT TRIGGERED]

[ANOMALY DETECTED: SECTOR 7 — DEMON TERRITORY]

[INITIATING COMPULSORY HERO REUNION: 7 days.]