Netori: Stealing The Hero's Party!

Chapter 648: The False Queen’s Sorrow

The day had passed, and night had finally arrived. Everything was quiet, no snarling of monsters and no sound of ash drifting to the harshest of winds. This world was much different from her own. It had hope and fertility even in a shadowed land like Elenaris.

ʼThose heroes must be gone by now.ʼ Thought the clone to herself. Laying in Monoʼs bed, she felt herself drifting and for once in a long time, there was fear of being eaten alive by monsters that roamed every inch of her ruined world.

Yet as her eyes lingered on the ceiling, she couldnʼt fall asleep as wonder had taken control of every corner of her mind. From thoughts of staying here, in this world and living as the iron queen forever, to snatching Amedith and the god of time as soon as she could and reversing the fate of her world and somehow saving everything and everyone. Wishful thinking…And she wasnʼt blind to that fact.

ʼI canʼt be hasty.ʼ Moving a hand on her chest, she reached out to the gift imbued into her by Pathfinder. ʼI can only get the portal to open once more, and I still havenʼt even found this supposed mortal turned god.ʼ

Tossing and turning with worry, contracting her heart, the clone curled into a ball and tried not to think at all. The gods had betrayed her once, and the hero had failed her plenty, and the king had driven her to insanity. Their bodies now, dust fluttered through the landʼs harsh winds. She could taste their ashen meat down her gullet, and it only made her feel even more disgusted at herself.

Through gritted teeth, she growled. Her mind, bent and feral, urged her to destroy what life was held within these lands.

ʼWhy do they deserve it, and I did not? Why did that bitch come back to life when I had to suffer in this abomination of a body?ʼ Half metal, half heart, half human, half machine. No wonder her mind wandered between the extremes. If Mono was a mad woman, then this clone of hers was beyond saving.

”Shut up…SHUT UP!” Grabbing her head, she began pounding it against the bed. Rolling about anxiously, she began scratching herself everywhere until her anxiety pulled her off the bed. ”Shut up…Shut upp!!”

As unrest welled up in her heart, the clone decided to walk through the corridors and get her mind off of everything. Yet the air, free of ash, followed her everywhere as a reminder. A reminder of betrayal and broken promises, all the while, sheʼd continued to uphold her end of the deal to help the saviors of her world.

The gods wanted an army, and so she provided it to them. The hero required the same, and many more needed her expertise everywhere. In doing so, their reliance on her grew, forcing her to live beyond her mortal means. The elves and the demi-humans, even the king and the magus of her world, lived as youthful as ever–while her own body began to degrade.

Only after shaking hands with a devil did she regain her youth–but even then, the metal that remained a part of her haunted her every day.

”Look at this place…” Leaning against an open window on the castle wall, she looked down at the spiralling city–still vibrant with light and crowned with the spire and the brothel beside it. In comparison, the castle was dim, dark and desolate–almost devoid of life in some way that she couldnʼt exactly pinpoint. ”Their world is doomed for failure, and they are still enjoying themselves as if the apocalypse will wait.”

Having only known work for the past few centuries, the clone struggled to understand why the people were allowed even a momentʼs rest. Shouldnʼt they be working? Building, forging, brewing and stirring the potion pots to deliver goods to the frontlines. But if not? Then what was she doing all this time? Working as a slave and only getting recognized for her effort when nobody was left but her to save the world.

ʼA sacrificial lamb. Thatʼs what they think of me.ʼ She thought, and she was right.

Her heart sank at the realization–but as it wasnʼt the first time that sheʼd reached the conclusion, she quickly brushed off that portion of her reality and instead focused on the current time. A quick glance down the window, she wondered whether falling from that height would kill her. She even almost convinced herself to climb the frame, but the cold grip of death kept the clone from embracing her.

ʼWhatever. Once time spins around–ʼ Pushing herself away from the window, she began to walk through the corridors once more. ʼIʼll take over the restored world and change everything that led to its ruin.ʼ

As noble as she told herself her intentions were, she wasnʼt quite a maiden in distress to allow herself the benefit of the doubt. After all, the three thousand machina that sheʼd brought were each run by the broken bodies and souls of the apocalypse survivors. Maimed and shattered of minds, the soldiers were loyal to Mono but only because they had no choice.

However, if they were to perish or their master, nobody was left in their world to mourn their loss. The few left behind were never supposed to wake up. Their bodies were frozen as specimens of different races in case Mono found some way to revive their bloodline. But if the army never returns? Their bodies would rot inside the ice and eventually turn to mush.

ʼA better fate than having to eat each other.ʼ Finally, as the cloneʼs mind eased a little, she decided to head back to bed with memories of the foul human taste in her mouth. ʼAt least the food here is good, the landʼs fertile still–maybe I should take some of it back with me when I return?ʼ

If for some reason her plan were to fail, she decided to take back the fertile soil so that at least she could grow something to eat besides the flesh of humanoid creatures. But that day had yet to come, after all–Razor hadnʼt been found and without him, the needle of time couldnʼt be turned.