Headed by a Snake

Chapter 911 Unrecognizable (Part One)

?Ophelia's heart shook. With the rush of blood, her muscles tensed up, and her vision sharpened.

Roxane... her personal guard... and her best friend...

--she was emanating... killing intent?

"I REFUSE TO ACCEPT IT!!" She shouted.

Her short, silver hair flared up with power and she rushed forward, leaving cracks in the tiles.

Slamming her mana-clad gauntlet into Ophelia's desk, it cracked in two with an explosion of wooden shrapnel.

Ophelia flipped backward, slicing both arms across her chest. The vine tendrils from the two chalkboards whipped forward, wrapping several times around Roxane's arms.

"HrrrrrRRRGKK!!" The silver-haired girl roared, struggling to break free.

Ophelia was using a chantless restraint spell-- but she was a full Metal-Rank higher than her opponent. With Roxane's movement restricted and without access to leverage, she could only use her Iron-Rank strength to overpower the vines.

But... what... was going on?

Roxane wasn't a violent girl. Even if she was upset, her first and second options would be to appeal to reason.

Her eyes, though... they were different.

They held a madness Ophelia had never seen before... not in an elf.

If she didn't know any better... it looked like... Domination-type magic.

--but that was impossible!

Roxane came from the Dewdrop family. Her Elven bloodline was as pure as the Blade Dancers of House Highblade.

That she could be affected by any kind of Domination-type spell... was an insult to her entire bloodline!

Suddenly, Roxane ceased her struggling. Her eyes lit up, filled with mana... and she screamed at the top of her lungs.

"AAAAAAAARRRGHHH!!!"

Roxane... had become unrecognizable.

The Roxane that Ophelia knew controlled her mana like the ebb and rise of the tide. The Roxane that Ophelia knew transitioned between her martial stances as smooth and ceaseless as a coursing river.

The current Roxane... was summoning every drop of pure mana in her body, heedless of the danger in forcibly widening her mana circuits and the mana-feedback she'd suffer afterward.

Ophelia watched in horror as her vines withered away, subdued by the tyrannical force of Roxane's mana-shout.

Ophelia shot her palms forward, reciting one of her strongest incantations, "Children, sleeping in the earth! Spirits of life and groaning stone, aid me! ?Blackthorn Barrier?!!"

A thick, domineering wall of black-iron briarthorn grew from the floor, blocking the enraged Roxane's vision.

Ophelia quickly turned and dashed to the stand she kept her wargear. She didn't have enough time to don her armor-- but she could wield...

A sword...

Before this, she only wielded her sword in the name of justice.

With it, she executed criminals and cut down monsters... With it she defended her city against those who would defy its laws.

She didn't want to wield it against Roxane. She couldn't truly imagine the girl she loved as a sister hating her to the point of trying to end her life.

"ELIA!!!" The wall of thorns and vines split in two, torn apart by Roxane's armor-clad fists. "I... have always--"

Ophelia jabbed Roxane in the sternum with the tip of her sheathed longsword. Placing a hand on the sword's upper sheath, she smashed it into the side of Roxane's chin, then backhanded the girl with her fist.

Roxane flew back, sliding on the floor with a pained grunt.

Ophelia leapt up with the aid of a wind spirit. Bringing her still-sheathed sword above her head, she activated one of her Skills.

"?Emerald Crash!!?"

Dark green mana coalesced over her weapon, enchanting it with the weight and force of a rocky avalanche.

Roxane crossed her arms in front of her chest to block.

For that, Ophelia was thankful.

She brought her sword down, the force of the strike shattering her mana-weapons into shining fragments and brilliant dust.

As quick as she struck, Ophelia twirled around, leaping backward... prepared to continue, if necessary.

Thankfully... after the dust settled, Roxane remained lying where she was.

"M... my lady..." She coughed.

It pained Ophelia to see...

By the immediate bruising, it seemed that both of Roxane's arms had fractured or broken.

A trail of blood spilled down Roxane's mouth. Was it from internal injuries? ...Or was her mana-core destroyed in the attack?

"Stay down, Roxy," She glared. "?Gnarled Prison?"

Twisted tree roots erupted from the floorboards, trapping Roxane. If she didn't have broken bones before, then the slower, stronger restraint spell guaranteed it.

Besides her guardian-sister, there were other things Ophelia needed to see.

Sheathing her sword, she walks past and into the hallway. Like she'd surmised, the moss had fallen to the floor, but there was still enough dim light for her Elven eyes to see.

She saw... her guards...

Her sisters... her brothers... her aunts and uncles...

And... she saw... blood.

Sappho lied against the wall, covered in crimson.

Basilia's arms were twisted, broken at the elbows.

Persephone's sword cut into her neck, both hands still on the hilt.

She could not be saved.

In the halls beyond, the only ones not dead were barely breathing.

"WHO IS IT?!?" Ophelia shouted.

It wasn't yet the time to cry. Everyone was dead... and no one would see her tears... but the killer remained.

Unless...

Roxane?

Was there truly a magic so cruel? Was a single elf capable of so much hatred?

Ophelia tossed her scabbard away, brandishing her longsword against the southern hallway. Not even her Elven eyes could pierce the darkness there...

The mana-glow from two human eyes caught her attention.

"You look beautiful when you wield your sword."

Ophelia's heart trembled upon hearing that man's voice.

...That person, always smiling... his words always a little coquettish...

She'd wanted to hear it for so long.

But... his return was ominous.

Was it possible... did he have something to do with Roxane's betrayal?

Ophelia straightened her back and held on resolutely... "H... husband."

Prince Landris Wyndham was... the most beautiful man in the Realm, his silky blue hair bobbing as he walked, his subtle smile begging to be kissed.

He wore a set of beautiful silver armor... Elven mithril, perhaps... blessed by the moon.

He looked... enchanting.

He was exactly like she remembered... but more handsome, more mature.

Humans aged differently from elves and Landris took all their good points.

It only made her internal struggle more difficult.