Chapter 11: Mother’s “Comfort”

The banquet ended on a sour note.

Cut short by Avira’s blade.

Not just Elder Mephisto’s arm, but the enthusiasm of everyone present.

The nobles left their seats with trembling steps.

Not daring to make even the faintest clinking of forks and knives against plates.

They carefully avoided the pool of blood in the center of the hall.

They avoided Elder Mephisto, who knelt in the blood and was being escorted away by the guards.

Sylvia was supported by her maid back to her chamber.

Her legs weak, almost dragged along.

The image of Avira swinging her blade played over and over in her mind.

Elder Mephisto’s arm disintegrating into ash midair.

And her mother’s last offhand remark—

“It will affect Sylvia’s appetite.”

This family, truly, had no one sane.

Once back in her chamber, Sylvia immediately dismissed all her maids.

She crawled into the soft bedding.

Wrapped herself tightly from head to toe in the quilt, leaving only her eyes exposed.

A sense of security?

It did not exist.

This was not a sanctuary, only a larger, more ornate cage.

She curled up in the corner of the bed, vigilantly watching every shadow in the room.

Would that madwoman Avira suddenly leap out?

Would her mother suddenly appear again?

The unknown was always more terrifying than the known.

Time passed in the darkness.

There was no timekeeping device in the chamber.

Sylvia could only guess an hour had passed by feeling.

Just as her taut nerves began to relax slightly,

The temperature in the room plummeted suddenly.

The air thickened, making even breathing difficult.

Sylvia’s eyes snapped wide open.

A figure appeared silently by the bedside.

It was Ophelia.

Still in that black royal ceremonial dress.

Silver hair piled high, expression cold.

‘Mother…..’ Sylvia’s voice was dry and hoarse.

She wanted to sit up and pay respects, but her body betrayed her, trembling violently.

Ophelia said nothing.

She simply stared quietly at Sylvia, curled up in the quilt with only terrified eyes visible.

There was no reproach in those eyes, nor comfort.

After a moment, she extended her hand.

Palm up.

A gem of deep blue rested quietly in her pale palm, radiating a gentle, wave-like glow.

“Night’s Tear.”

Ophelia spoke, her voice cold but clear.

“Take it; it will calm your spirit.”

Sylvia hesitated.

She looked at the gem, then at Ophelia’s expressionless face.

Finally, trembling, she reached out and took the gem from the queen’s palm.

It was icy cold to the touch.

A gentle warmth surged from her fingertips through her limbs and body.

Her wildly racing heartbeat slowed.

Tense muscles relaxed.

The bloody chaotic images in her mind were gently erased.

She was enveloped in unprecedented peace.

So comforting.

Sylvia exhaled deeply.

For the first time, she directly felt

The power her queen mother wielded was not only oppression and destruction.

But also creation and consolation.

As Sylvia sank deeper into the calm,

The mattress beside her shifted softly.

Ophelia sat at the edge of the bed.

Sylvia’s body immediately stiffened again.

Ophelia did not look at her.

She only reached out to pull the corner of the quilt up, covering Sylvia’s exposed shoulder.

The movement was so natural, just like the most ordinary mother tucking her daughter in.

“Avira’s methods were too crude.”

Ophelia said softly, breaking the silence.

Sylvia was stunned, not understanding why she suddenly mentioned Avira.

“Forcing your enemy silent with violence is the lowest form of practice.”

Ophelia’s gaze landed on the hand clutching the gem.

“True power is Trial by Rule.”

“It’s making everyone afraid to speak against you from the very start, within the rules.”

The queen’s voice was calm.

Sylvia was confused but keenly sensed

The words to come were the real point.

“Sylvia.”

Ophelia finally turned her head, her blood-red eyes locking onto hers.

“Starting tomorrow, there will be no more Mephisto clan in the Royal Court.”

Sylvia’s mind went blank.

What?

No more Mephisto clan?

One of the oldest three great clans among the thirteen clans!

A cornerstone of the empire, a behemoth entrenched in the northern territories for thousands of years.

All because an elder said a few “unsuitable” words at the banquet— the entire clan would be erased?

“Mother… what does this mean?” she asked, bewildered.

Ophelia looked at her confused expression, showing for the first time a look that could be called “patience.”

“Within the hour after the banquet ended, I issued three Royal Decrees.”

“The first decree—

“On charges of both ‘blasphemy’ and ‘treason,’ all titles, fiefs, and properties of Aglaius Mephisto are revoked.”

“He will be exiled to the Storm Eye of Chaos until death.”

Sylvia’s heart sank.

***

The Storm Eye of Chaos—the place on the demon-human battlefield where the laws break down the most.

Filled with vengeful soul storms and spatial rifts, no mortal survives a day inside.

To throw a Starforged warrior there was cruelty beyond death.

“The second decree—”

Ophelia continued without changing her tone.

“The hereditary trading rights of the Black Crystal Vein, held by the Mephisto clan for centuries, are immediately confiscated by the crown.”

“In three days, they will be publicly auctioned in Yelin City.”

“All nobles holding Marquis rank or above may participate.”

At first, Sylvia didn’t grasp the terror behind this decree.

But she understood instantly.

This decree was a hundred times harsher than the first!

It cut off the Mephisto clan’s economic lifeline.

More importantly, it threw a juicy prize in front of all the nobles.

Those clans coveting the mining rights—what would they do?

Like sharks smelling blood,

They would frenzy over the still-breathing “corpse” of the Mephisto clan.

They would use every means to suppress and ostracize, ensuring the Mephistos could never rise again.

Ophelia didn’t need to lift a finger.

One decree alone made the Mephisto clan the common enemy of the entire noble class.

To kill and break their spirit!

This was the true killing of heart and soul!

“The third—”

Ophelia paused briefly, as if weighing her words.

“I appoint Avira as the newly established Chief Inquisitor of the Royal Court.”

“She will have full authority to purge all potential ‘disloyalty to the crown’ within the empire.”

“With the power to strike first and report later.”

Sylvia gasped cold air.

She finally understood.

Everything had been calculated by her mother.

Avira’s violent outburst at the banquet was no impulsive act.

It was a catalyst.

A catalyst precisely exploited by Ophelia to unleash a political storm.

Avira’s violence was a performance on stage.

Her mother Ophelia was the true director behind the scenes, writing the script and controlling the entire game.

She turned Avira’s unruly madness

Into a legitimate, efficient political tool that inspired terror in all.

Now, Avira’s sharpest blade had the most righteous justification.

It could be aimed at anyone Ophelia wished.

And those conservative nobles, after witnessing Elder Mephisto’s fate and the Mephisto clan’s impending doom—

Who would dare question?

Who would dare dissent?

Fear would force all forbidden thoughts to rot inside them.

“Now everyone understands.”

Ophelia reached out gently, stroking Sylvia’s silver hair scattered on the pillow.

The touch was light, tender.

“To harm you, covet you, or even entertain disrespectful thoughts—

“The final outcome won’t just be death.”

“But their cherished families, accumulated wealth, and guarded honor will vanish in an instant.”

The queen’s blood-red eyes reflected Sylvia’s pale face.

“That is true ‘consolation.’”

“My daughter, do you understand?”

Sylvia gripped the cooling “Night’s Tear” tightly.

But a fine layer of cold sweat formed on her back.

She understood.

Completely understood.

Her sister Avira’s love was fiery, mad,

A possessive obsession that wished to cage her.

Her mother Ophelia’s love was cold and rational.

A single gesture could uproot all potential threats, sweeping away absolute control over the entire world—for her.