Third Person's POV

In the vast open plain where the Emperor’s tents stood, wounded knights were being tended to, some clutching their injuries while others had just left to confront the advancing enemy. The quiet tension in the camp was thick, every s
knights aware that this battle could be their last.

On the opposite side of the field, the enemy forces were stationed, waiting with grim determination. The war had been waged with a rare honor. Both sides fought with dignity, bound by a fierce code—if you surrendered, you either lost or died.

"Your Majesty, we’re close to being overrun. What is your decision?" the Duke asked, his voice low but urgent. The Emperor’s grip tightened on his sword, his jaw set. A fresh wound marked his left arm, but he ignored the pain, his focus unbroken.

"Prepare yourselves," the Emperor commanded, his tone as sharp as his blade. "We end this today," his words carried a finality that left no room for doubt. The Duke bowed deeply, a glint of fierce loyalty in his eyes, before he swiftly left the Emperor’s tent to relay the command.

The camp sprang to life as every knight readied themselves. Even the injured knights tightened their armor and donned their battle-worn uniforms with stoic resolve. Mounted upon their horses, all two hundred remaining knights awaited only one figure: the Emperor. Moments later, he stepped out of his tent, carrying himself with the pride and authority of a true leader.

He walked with an unbreakable determination, each step measured and filled with purpose. Reaching his steed, he mounted gracefully, then cast his gaze over his knights, meeting each face with a steady look that seemed to ignite their spirits.

"Today," he began, his voice steady and powerful, echoing across the field, "we will carve our legacy into the history of our beloved empire!" his words were precise, each one weighted with a fierce conviction. "We fight for justice!"

His speech struck deep into the hearts of his knights, stirring a renewed courage. The Duke raised his sword high, shouting, "For the Empire!" The knights followed suit, lifting their swords in unison as a resounding battle cry erupted. "For the Empire!"

With a fierce look, the Emperor spurred his horse forward, charging into the field. His knights followed closely, their hooves thundering as they surged forward, a single, unstoppable force.

They arrived at the midpoint of the battlefield, where their fellow knights were already locked in brutal combat against the enemy. Relief washed over the General as he spotted the Emperor’s forces approaching. Reinforcements had arrived, and with it, a renewed hope.

The Emperor’s group plunged into the chaos, immediately joining the fray. Swords clashed and shields met with thunderous impact as they fought side by side, pushing back the enemy with sheer force and relentless determination.

The Emperor rode through the battlefield like a storm, each swing of his sword calculated and lethal. As he charged forward, his blade gleamed in the sunlight, slicing down his enemies with ruthless precision. He maneuvered his horse with expert control, its powerful strides thundering as it trampled through the fray.

One enemy soldier attempted to block his path, stepping forward with his spear raised. The Emperor responded instantly, pulling back on the reins, causing his steed to rear up. The horse’s front legs struck out powerfully, slamming into the soldier’s chest with a bone-crushing force that sent him sprawling to the ground.

Without pausing, the Emperor urged his horse onward, leaning forward as he swung his sword in a wide arc, cutting down another foe who dared to approach. Blood splattered across his armor, but he remained unfazed, his expression steely and focused. Each enemy he passed fell swiftly, barely a second’s resistance before they crumpled under the relentless assault.

Another enemy rushed at him from the side, his sword raised. The Emperor saw him out of the corner of his eye and shifted in the saddle, swinging his sword in a brutal, sideways slash that cleaved through the enemy’s defenses. The enemy fell, his weapon slipping from his grasp as he collapsed.

The Emperor’s movements were fluid, a blend of strength and precision honed from years of battle. As he advanced, a group of enemies gathered to intercept him, attempting to surround him on all sides. He pulled his horse to a stop, eyeing them with a fierce gleam as he calculated his next move.

With a swift kick, he urged his horse forward, charging straight into the center of the group. He swung his sword in wide arcs, each strike aimed to incapacitate. His blade cut through the air with deadly accuracy, cutting down one enemy after another. The enemies around him fell in quick succession, unable to withstand the force of his assault.

One enemy, braver than the rest, attempted to rush at him from behind. But the Emperor, sensing the movement, spun in the saddle, twisting his sword backward in a sharp, precise motion. His blade met the soldier’s, and with a powerful push, he knocked his opponent off balance before driving his sword forward, delivering a finishing blow.

While the Duke, he fought with a brutal elegance, each movement swift and calculated as he cut down his enemies one by one. He commanded his horse forward, eyes fixed on a towering foe—a giant of a man, armored and wielding a massive axe. Without hesitation, the Duke urged his horse faster, closing the distance with fearless precision.

As he neared, he leapt from his horse with practiced agility, soaring through the air toward the giant. His sword flashed, catching the light as he aimed it directly at his opponent's exposed neck. With a single, devastating strike, he sliced clean through, his blade cutting deep as he landed nimbly on the ground, his feet steady amidst the chaos of battle.

The giant collapsed, his weapon slipping from his grasp, and the Duke wasted no time. He sprinted forward, his eyes already scanning the battlefield as he sought his horse. Along the way, enemy soldiers charged at him, their weapons raised, but none could withstand his swift, lethal strikes. His sword cut through each one with merciless efficiency, his movements fluid and unrelenting. Each step he took left another enemy in his wake, their bodies falling in rapid succession.

As he neared his horse, a final group of enemies attempted to intercept him, forming a barrier between him and his steed. The Duke didn’t falter. With a fierce glint in his eyes, he raised his sword, his stance poised and unbreakable. In a series of rapid, powerful swings, he dispatched each soldier, his blade carving through their defenses with effortless precision. The last one fell, and he sheathed his sword with a swift motion, a fierce determination flashing in his gaze.

With a fluid leap, he mounted his horse once more, his body moving with practiced ease as he settled back into the saddle. Without a word, he spurred his horse forward, ready to rejoin the battle and face whatever enemy dared to challenge him next.

The battlefield was chaotic, littered with bodies as the clash continued. With the enemy numbers dwindling, one enemy suddenly broke away, mounted his horse, and galloped off to deliver news to his comrades.

When the Emperor's forces finally vanquished the last of their opponents, they quickly formed a line, standing firm as silence fell over the field. Yet, the tension remained thick, palpable in the heavy air, filled with the stench of blood and the metallic scent of clashing steel.

Minutes passed, each one heavy and filled with anticipation, before they saw the enemy reinforcements approaching in a rigid formation. The enemies marched forward, their footsteps heavy and synchronized, echoing ominously across the plain. Behind them came a line of mounted soldiers, advancing steadily with cold determination.

Both sides locked eyes across the battlefield, the tension sharpening as if testing each other's resolve. It was as if they were engaged in a silent duel before the true battle began.

"Prepare... " the Emperor commanded, his voice calm but steely. His gaze was fixed on the advancing line, unflinching. As soon as he saw movement within the enemy ranks, he drew his sword high into the air. "Attack!" he shouted, his voice slicing through the silence like a blade. His soldiers charged forward as he rode beside them, joining the charge with fierce resolve.

The two armies collided in a storm of fury, the clash of swords and the cries of battle reverberating across the vast plain. It was a fierce and relentless confrontation, neither side giving an inch as they fought bravely and with everything they had.

Through the chaos, the Emperor spotted the leader of the enemy forces—his former Prime Minister. Alongside him were the Count and the Baron, traitors who had turned against the empire.

The Emperor halted his horse, meeting the Prime Minister's gaze, their eyes locked in a cold, tense stare. His jaw clenched as the Prime Minister gave a mocking grin. "Surrender now, if you still value their lives," the Prime Minister taunted, but the Emperor remained unfazed. Without a word, he dismounted his horse, and as enemy soldiers lunged toward him, he moved with lethal precision, swinging his sword and dispatching each one without hesitation.

He advanced toward the Prime Minister, who now wore a serious expression. The former minister dismounted as well, facing the Emperor in grim silence, the mockery replaced by cold determination.

At the Emperor’s side, the Duke arrived, positioning himself against the Count and the Baron. The battle lines were drawn, and in that intense moment, each knew that this would not end until justice was served or they themselves fell.

Sabay na sumugod ang dalawang panig, the clashes of their swords echoed across the battlefield, each strike ringing out like thunder. Sparks flew as blades met with force, the impact reverberating through their arms. The Emperor’s strikes were swift and powerful, his sword cutting through the air with deadly precision, while the Prime Minister met each blow with calculated skill, his eyes sharp and focused.

Around them, knights and soldiers battled fiercely, the sounds of metal against metal mingling with shouts and cries. Dust rose from the ground, swirling around them in the chaotic struggle as the scent of blood and sweat filled the air.

The Emperor parried the Prime Minister’s blade with a swift, calculated movement, his sword ringing as steel met steel. With a fierce push, he shoved his opponent back, sending the Prime Minister stumbling a few steps, struggling to regain his footing. Seizing the moment, the Emperor pivoted, his cloak flaring as he spun on his heel, and he swung his sword in a wide, powerful arc, aiming straight for his opponent’s exposed side.

The Prime Minister barely had time to raise his weapon to block, catching the Emperor’s strike with a resounding clash. But the impact was fierce, forcing him to brace against the ground to avoid being thrown back again. The Emperor’s gaze was sharp and unyielding, his every move precise and relentless. He didn’t give his opponent even a second to recover. With a calculated step forward, he raised his sword once more, aiming a series of quick, relentless slashes at the Prime Minister, each blow growing faster and harder.

The Prime Minister deflected each strike, but his movements grew tense as he felt the strain of each clash of swords, his muscles tightening with the effort. A bead of sweat trickled down his brow as he struggled to keep up with the Emperor’s speed and force, his breathing becoming ragged under the weight of the assault.

The Emperor, sensing his opponent’s weakening defenses, smirked slightly and shifted his stance, feinting a downward slash before twisting his wrist mid-strike to catch the Prime Minister off guard. The feint worked—the Prime Minister hesitated, misjudging the attack, and the Emperor’s blade struck close, grazing the edge of his armor and forcing him to stumble back, momentarily thrown off balance.

With a fierce gleam in his eyes, the Emperor moved in closer, pressing his advantage, his every strike carrying a weight and precision that made it clear he intended to end the fight quickly and decisively.

As he was about to attack the Prime Minister, his attention was suddenly diverted by a rain of arrows falling around him. He quickly raised his sword to deflect the incoming projectiles, the metal clanging sharply as they struck his blade. Panic surged through him as he noticed his knights gradually succumbing to the barrage, many of them collapsing to the ground, blood pooling beneath them, while the enemy began to retreat in organized lines. He could hear the cries of his men, mingled with the sounds of clanging armor and thudding bodies, creating a chaotic symphony of war. His gaze caught sight of the Duke, charging fearlessly after the retreating foes, his sword glinting in the sunlight as he fought valiantly, demonstrating an unyielding courage that inspired those around him.

He turned his attention back to the Prime Minister, who wore a mocking grin on his face, reveling in the chaos. "See the reality, Isaac. Surrender now," the Prime Minister taunted, his voice dripping with disdain and arrogance. The Emperor felt his jaw tighten at the provocation, his focus sharpening. As he glanced further ahead, he spotted more enemies gathering, led by Lilieth and Anastasia, each armed with bows and arrows, ready to rain death upon them. The sight of their formation sent a chill down his spine, knowing that the battle was far from over.

The Emperor refused to be intimidated. Just as he prepared to charge, he heard the ominous whistling of arrows slicing through the air towards their side. His heart raced as he turned, and to his astonishment, he saw his wife, the Empress, leading a formidable contingent of women warriors. Each of them rode gracefully on horseback, their expressions fierce and resolute, their armor gleaming under the sun. Clad in full combat gear, the Empress radiated strength and beauty, her voice rising above the chaos with an authority that commanded attention. A smile played on her lips as she caught his eye, and in that moment, his resolve solidified. He could see the fire in her gaze, a fierce determination that mirrored his own.

With renewed determination, the Emperor shifted his focus back to the Prime Minister, whose expression had darkened. The man’s arrogance faltered as he realized the tide was turning against him. The Emperor charged forward, his movements now faster and more fluid than before, adrenaline coursing through his veins like wildfire. The Prime Minister struggled to keep pace with his assault, panic evident in his eyes as he fumbled to defend himself. When the Prime Minister swung his blade wildly, the Emperor seized the opportunity; his sword arced through the air, landing a precise blow against the Prime Minister's neck. The blade sliced through flesh with a sickening sound, and in an instant, the Prime Minister's head fell, rolling away from his body. A triumphant smirk crossed the Emperor's face as he savored the moment—he had finally avenged his parents, achieving the justice he had long sought.

Suddenly, he was jolted from his victory as he felt a soft touch on his cheek. He turned in surprise to find his wife, the Empress, leaning down from her horse, her lips brushing against his. The world around them faded as their eyes locked for a brief moment, a silent understanding passing between them. With a fierce determination in her eyes, she charged past him, her warriors following in a tight formation, ready to clash with the remaining enemies. Their alliance, forged in battle, was stronger than ever, and together, they would not rest until their enemies were defeated.

The battlefield erupted around them as the Empress led her group forward, rallying her forces with fierce cries of encouragement. The clash of metal against metal rang out like thunder as the two sides met in a whirlwind of chaos. The Emperor watched as she moved with precision, her sword dancing gracefully in her hand as she cut down any foe that dared to approach. He could see her skill; she was not just his wife but a true warrior, her every movement deliberate and calculated.

With each enemy that fell before her, his heart swelled with pride. She was embodying the very spirit of their empire, and he couldn't help but join the fight once more, feeling invincible at her side. He mounted his horse again, charging into the fray with renewed vigor, his sword raised high. The battlefield transformed into a storm of clashing swords, cries of valor, and the scent of sweat and blood, a brutal dance of survival where only the strongest would endure. The Emperor knew that together, they would write a new chapter in their empire's history, one of courage, resilience, and love forged in the heat of battle.

THE Empress smirked as she watched Anastasia’s expression shift from shock to fury. She could see the rage flaring in her eyes, the disbelief that someone she’d thought defeated was now standing in front of her—alive, unbroken, and ready for battle.

Anastasia charged, her blade gleaming as she closed the distance between them with determined, powerful strides. Celestia’s hand hovered by her side, fingers tightening around the hilt of her own sword. She waited until Anastasia was almost upon her, her enemy’s sword raised and poised to strike. At the last possible moment, Celestia sidestepped, twisting her body just enough to dodge the blade as it sliced through the air inches from her.

With a swift, fluid motion, she drew her sword, its edge flashing as she deflected Anastasia's next swing, their swords clashing with a sharp, resonating clang. Sparks flew as steel met steel, each woman pushing forward with a fierce determination.

“You think you can kill me again?” Celestia taunted, her voice calm and controlled despite the intensity of the fight. She parried another of Anastasia's strikes, their faces mere inches apart now. “You failed before, and you’ll fail again.”

Anastasia's eyes narrowed in fury. “You should have stayed dead,” she hissed, slashing her sword in a wide arc, forcing Celestia to leap back. Kung ganoon alam na nito ang tunay niyang pagkatao. But how?

Celestia regained her footing quickly, her stance steady and unshaken. She lunged forward, aiming her sword low and swift, trying to catch Anastasia off guard. But Anastasia was quick; she brought her blade down to block the attack, gritting her teeth as she countered with a swift upward strike aimed at Celestia's shoulder.

The Empress ducked just in time, feeling the rush of air as the blade narrowly missed her. She spun to the side, her cloak swirling, and lashed out with a fierce kick to Anastasia's midsection, forcing her to stumble back. Seizing the advantage, Celestia pressed forward, delivering a series of rapid strikes that left Anastasia struggling to keep up, her defenses faltering with each blow.

The sound of metal echoed across the field as their swords clashed again and again, each strike more forceful, more desperate. Anastasia's breathing grew ragged as she fought to maintain her composure, but her frustration was evident in the harshness of her strikes, the way her movements grew increasingly erratic.

“Give up, Anastasia,” Celestia taunted, her voice laced with dark amusement. “Your rage won’t be enough to save you this time.”

Anastasia let out a snarl, her face twisted in a mixture of hatred and defiance. Kung kilala na nga siya nito, hindi siya magpapatinag. With a scream of fury, she lunged forward, putting all her strength into a downward strike aimed at Celestia's head. But Celestia was ready. She sidestepped once more, twisting her sword to meet Anastasia's in a powerful block that reverberated up both their arms.

Celestia’s eyes glinted with cold satisfaction as she pressed down, forcing Anastasia to bend under the weight of her own attack. With a calculated twist of her wrist, Celestia knocked Anastasia’s sword from her grip, sending it skidding across the ground.

Anastasia gasped, momentarily stunned, as she looked down at her empty hand. Celestia took a step forward, her blade pointed directly at Anastasia’s throat.

“Looks like I know you better than you thought,” Celestia said softly, her tone dripping with finality.

Anastasia’s breath grew heavy and labored as she faced Celestia. There was no way she could surrender; there was no way she could allow this woman to kill her. Gathering her composure, she forced a smirk onto her lips, trying to mask the fear bubbling within. “Do you really think you can kill me? Do you believe you will be the victor in this fight?” she taunted, her voice dripping with arrogance. Despite her bravado, Celestia could see through her confident façade; she knew that Anastasia’s strength faltered when it came to her.

Celestia paused, her grip tightening around her sword's hilt as she confronted the tumult of emotions surging within her. Yes, she had felt fear before, but not anymore. This was her moment to end the trauma that had haunted her for so long, to reclaim her power. She stood tall, her heart racing with determination, a fierce fire igniting in her chest.

“See? You cannot even bring yourself to strike!” Anastasia laughed, the sound echoing with mockery. The confidence in her voice was unmistakable, yet Celestia sensed the underlying weakness that still gripped her foe.

A grin spread across Celestia’s face, a mixture of relief and fury coursing through her veins. In an instant, she pivoted, her sword slicing through the air as it found its mark at Anastasia’s neck. Time seemed to slow as the first blow struck, and without a sound, Anastasia’s head fell, her wide eyes reflecting the shock of betrayal and disbelief. Her lifeless body crumpled to the ground, blood pooling around her as Celestia stood over her fallen enemy. “Yes, I can,” she uttered, the weight of her words echoing in the stillness that followed. In that moment, she felt an overwhelming sense of freedom and relief wash over her, as if the chains of her past had finally been shattered.

Celestia glanced around the battlefield, her eyes scanning the chaotic scene before her. She noticed Lilieth sprawled on the ground, defeated, having fallen victim to Lyra’s swift daggers. A sense of finality settled over her as she took in the sight of her enemies now vanquished.

Victory belonged to the Empress and her Emperor. Their triumph resonated deeply within them, a celebration of justice achieved for all the innocent lives that had been lost. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the battlefield, Celestia felt a profound sense of peace envelop her. The struggles, the pain, and the heartache—all of it had led to this moment of redemption.

She stood tall, a warrior at last, embracing the hard-earned freedom that came with the end of their fight. Around her, her knights rallied, their cheers filling the air with a triumphant melody. The oppressive weight of despair began to lift, replaced by the exhilarating taste of victory.

Celestia gasped as she was suddenly pulled into a firm embrace, her face pressing against the solid chest of her husband, the Emperor. Looking up, she was met with the blazing intensity of his eyes, filled with a fierce mixture of relief and affection. “I must be the luckiest man in the world…” he said, his voice rough and raspy from the aftermath of battle, each word heavy with emotion. A smile crept across Celestia’s face at his words, warmth flooding her chest.

“Does that mean you’re now completely in love with me?” she teased, her playful tone cutting through the tension of the moment. But as she spoke, she noticed the sudden shift in his demeanor; the Emperor’s expression turned serious. He cupped her cheek gently, his touch sending an electric jolt through her, causing her smile to fade, replaced by a mixture of surprise and anticipation.

When the Emperor spoke again, his voice was low and earnest, carrying a weight that ignited something deep within her. “I love you, wife…” The words hung in the air, resonating like an explosion in Celestia's ears. She felt as if the ground beneath her had shifted, the world around her fading into a blur as the profound impact of his confession settled in. She inhaled sharply, her breath catching in her throat as his lips met hers, tender yet powerful.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still. Celestia melted into the kiss, her heart racing as everything she had fought for—the battles, the pain, the struggles—faded away, leaving only the two of them in their own universe. The warmth of his body, the strength of his embrace, and the sweetness of his kiss enveloped her, creating a cocoon of safety and love that she had yearned for.

As they pulled away, Celestia’s mind raced with thoughts of all they had endured to reach this point. The chaos of the battlefield, the weight of their responsibilities, and the lingering shadows of their past conflicts all seemed to dissipate in the glow of their shared moment. She searched his eyes, seeing not just the Emperor but the man she had come to love deeply.

A/N: Yati kasakit sa ulo banckfogncjdjxncj