The Demon of The North-Chapter 137 - 136. Surprising

The elven ship fell silent as their queen, Alariel, sovereign of the high elves and bearer of the oldest bloodline among them, stepped forward. Her presence alone commanded reverence.

Silver hair cascaded down her back like liquid moonlight, each strand catching the sunlight. Her golden eyes, bright as a sunlit forest, locked onto Roxanne with a mixture of pride, exhaustion, and something close to despair.

Draped in a dark, ceremonial gown embroidered with living motifs, leaves that shimmered faintly, and threads that pulsed with natural magic, Queen Alariel looked every bit the ruler of a land once blessed by the Tree of Life. Her crown, made from pale branches and translucent crystals, crowned her with nature’s authority.

And yet, when she came to stand before Roxanne, even her beauty and majesty seemed humbled. Two female alphas, both breathtaking and both powerful, faced each other. Their presence alone made the entire deck hold its breath.

But the difference in dominance is undeniable.

Alariel felt it at once. A pressure, a command woven into the very air. An instinct crawls beneath her skin, urging her to bow and submit to the alpha before her. The aura that radiated from Roxanne isn’t just strong—it’s overwhelming, ancient in its depth, and unyielding in its authority.

So Alariel lowered her head. Not out of weakness, but out of instinctual recognition.

"We... we have come to seek help and refuge," she said at last, her voice steady but laden with grief. "Our beta females and our omegas have become victims of the brutes from Calonia. They don’t care if an omega is mated—they tear the bond, ignore the connection, and force themselves upon them."

Behind Roxanne, Vivianne stiffened, her breath caught, her fingers curling with tension. Roxanne immediately took her hand, grounding her. "And the humans?" Roxanne asked, eyes narrowing.

"The same," Alariel whispered. Her golden eyes dimmed as she lifted her gaze. "No one is spared. If this continues... our people will vanish. You know how delirious—how fatal—it is when the sacred bond between mated alpha and omega is violently severed."

Roxanne nodded slowly. "Yes. We know. Our races share the same second gender, we understand the weight of what you’re saying."

Alariel swallowed. "Then we beg you... help us."

Roxanne’s gaze sharpened. She stepped closer, the deck creaking under her boots. "Before I move, before I gather armies or reach a decision, I need to know everything. What makes you unable to fight them? Why can’t your people resist?"

At those words, a murmur rippled through the elves. Pain. Shame. Anger. Exhaustion.

Alariel exhaled shakily. "Because the Calonians are not like us. They are... monstrous. Larger than any alpha among elves or humans. Their strength dwarfs ours, their hide resists our magic, and their hunger—" Her voice trembled for the first time. "—their hunger is unceasing. They fight as if they feel no pain. And they target omegas first."

Vivianne flinched, and Roxanne pulled her gently to her side, her eyes darkening.

"And if that was not enough," Alariel continued, "the Tree of Life that anchored our spirits... is dying. Its power wanes. The land’s mana has thinned. Our spells weaken. Our healers are exhausted. We fled before extinction claimed us." Her voice cracked, but she forced herself upright again.

Alariel hadn’t finished speaking when Vivianne’s expression shifted, her eyes widening as she tapped into the whispers of the spirits around her. A chilling wave of urgency surged through her, bringing news of a looming threat. "There’s a huge ship approaching," she warned.

Roxanne’s body tensed. "Get Mara to be ready." She told one of the knights who’s following her.

The Calonian ship loomed ominously against the chaotic sky, a grotesque amalgamation of brute force and dark craftsmanship. Its hull, blackened and battered, seemed to absorb the surrounding darkness, patches of weathered wood marred by the scars of countless battles.

Jagged spikes protruded from various points, resembling the menacing tusks of some great beast, while crude chains hung limply over the sides, swinging ominously with the ship’s movements. The masts towered like skeletal arms reaching for the stormy heavens, their sails tattered and stained with time, depicting the gruesome victories of its feared crew.

Clusters of rusted metal and bones adorned the ship, a chilling testament to the orcs’ ruthless nature. As lightning danced across the turbulent ocean, illuminating the vessel, its grotesque figure exuded both horror and unwavering sturdiness, a terrifying fortress upon the waves, determined to conquer all who dared challenge it.

Every creak of the planks and every clang of iron echoed the ship’s sinister legacy, stirring a low dread in anyone who laid eyes on it. "That’s them... one of their ships," Alariel whispered, her voice tight with fear.

Roxanne is ready to coil and leap forward, ready to intercept the vessel before it reaches the port or the twin fleets behind her. But Vivianne caught her wrist, stopping her with quiet firmness.

"What are you going to do?" Roxanne asked, surprised.

"Exactly what Tempest told me to." Vivianne’s voice darkened. Her violet eyes drained to pure white, and in the next breath, she launched herself upward.

Hovering just ahead of the massive ship as it pushed steadily closer, Vivianne opened her senses, and Roxanne felt the connection snap into place. Through her eyes, through the spirits themselves, she could see figures moving across the deck, the interior shadows, the heartbeat of life inside the hull.

Creatures like orcs, yet not. Bigger, broader, and intelligent in the way they moved. Gray-skinned instead of green or red, their tusked faces were strangely human-shaped, more refined than the brutish orcs of their own mountains.

"Like the orcs in our continent," Roxanne murmured. Several elves flinched at her tone.

"How can you possibly know that?" Alariel asked. The ship is still far, too far for mortal eyes.

"My wife can see anything when she shares her senses with the spirits," Roxanne said, eyes fixed on the glowing figure in the sky. "And she lets me see what she sees."

"Is that powerful?" Alariel breathed, stunned.

"That’s just sharing a view," Roxanne replied, frowning as if the question itself confused her. "She’s much more powerful than that."

On the ship below, the gray orcs barked orders to one another, words neither Vivianne nor Roxanne needed translated. Their intent was filthy, focused entirely on capturing the "omega" floating above them and the omega or beta females aboard the twin vessels ahead. Their hunger was primal, strategic, and sickening.

Vivianne heard every word, and so did Tempest.

The spirits around her recoiled, then surged, winds tightening like a noose. Rage rippled through her aura, cold and unnervingly precise, the kind of fury that didn’t burn but carved. Even from the ground, Roxanne felt the shift: the air sharpened, pressure thickened, and the sky itself seemed to brace for what Vivianne was about to unleash.

A sharp cry of wind gathered at Vivianne’s palms, spiraling in tight circles, crackling with pale light. The temperature dropped. The elves felt it, the humans felt it, and even the sea stilled as if warned.

Vivianne simply raised her hand, a single gesture. And Tempest answered.

The wind detonated outward, not loud, but devastating. A blade of stormwind unfurled from her fingers, impossibly sharp and fast, like a crescent of pressure that screamed down from the sky like judgment itself. The massive ship below couldn’t even resist such power.

Wood split first, exploding in a shower of splinters. Iron followed, sheared as if it were thin parchment. Then came the bodies, muscle, bone, armor, everything in the storm’s path carved open in a single, perfect arc.

The ship didn’t just crack. It opened, like a fruit sliced cleanly down the middle.

The colossal vessel shuddered, held itself for one breathless moment, and then collapsed into drifting rubble as seawater rushed into the gaping wound Vivianne carved through it. Two halves sank apart, swallowed instantly by the waves.

Not a single gray orc survived. Two hundred bodies were severed mid-motion, their expressions still frozen in confusion, none of them understanding what had happened, and none of them even getting the chance to scream.

Roxanne hadn’t expected the ship to splinter so completely.

The roar of Tempest’s wind still howled across the sea, shredding the air where Vivianne hovered. The towering vessel—iron-framed, rune-etched, smelling of old blood and colder hunger—collapsed into drifting ruin. Bodies sliced cleanly, falling like broken statues, stained the water a muted red. The elves gasped. Even the humans flinched.

Roxanne merely exhaled. "Oh," she muttered, stepping back as fragments rained into the waves. "I don’t need to do anything then."

The sudden destruction of the Calonian ship makes all the humans and elves startled by how easy it is for the people of the Kaelindor continent to destroy the Calonian. Every soldier, elf, and human alike had braced for a clash, but none had expected annihilation delivered in a single breath by one omega, not the alpha. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

Silence rippled outward like a shockwave.

Alariel swallowed hard, her voice barely more than a tremor. "H-How"

Before anyone could answer, Roxanne shot upward, her wings unfurling with a harsh snap of air. She reached Vivianne in an instant. Her wife’s body had gone slack, drained, heavy, the aftereffect of wielding Tempest’s full wrath echoing through her limbs.

Roxanne gathered her close, one arm wrapped under her thighs, the other steadying her back as they hovered high above the stunned fleets. She could feel it, the sluggish drag of Vivianne’s mana, the raw depletion humming under her skin.

Not too many, but still able to make Vivianne feel weak. "I’m here," Roxanne murmured against her temple, her voice soft as if reassuring her. Vivianne exhaled, trusting her completely, letting her weight sink fully into Roxanne’s hold.

Below, hundreds of eyes stared upward. Alariel’s breath caught in her throat. "Your... Empress is truly that strong?"

Maxwell didn’t look away from the couple hovering in the pale sky. His face remained eerily calm, as though this level of destruction wasn’t shocking but expected. "Yes," he said simply. Then his tone dropped, carrying a certainty that froze the elves to their core. "And our Emperor... is even stronger."