Chapter 177 – The Woman Who Blends

  Inside the fort barracks, warmth returned in fragments.

  Not comfort.

  But something close.

  Ivaline stood at the center of it.

  To her left — Seraphine, wife in name and intensity alike.

  To her front — Lyra, assassin with ambition glittering in her eyes.

  To her Right — Vaelis, once a disciple of the Sword Saint, now a woman who had bared her pride in defeat and chosen to stay.

  Their banter rose and fell like uneven music.

  Knights and adventurers nearby found themselves smiling despite the siege outside.

  Tension eased.

  For a moment.

  And then—

  Seraphine’s ear twitched.

  Lyra’s smile sharpened — too deliberate.

  Vaelis’ gaze hardened, domain breached.

  Ivaline spoke.

  “Stop.”

  Everything paused.

  A knight mid-step.

  An adventurer mid-laugh.

  And something else.

  “One more step.”

  Her hand rested on her hilt.

  “You’ll be cut.”

  Silence.

  Then—

  A crack in the air.

  “So… you really noticed me.”

  She peeled into existence.

  Not like Lyra’s illusion unraveling.

  No shimmer.

  No distortion.

  Just color returning where there had been none.

  Green hair spilling over her shoulders like ivy over stone. Amber eyes steady and unhurried. Twin circular blades resting at her waist, balanced — not threatening.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Her scaled tail swayed once.

  Measured.

  “Hello, little one. No harm intended. You can lower your hand.”

  Lyra’s eyes narrowed.

  “You’re an assassin.”

  The word tightened every grip in the room.

  “You’re not local. Camouflage like that? That’s not from around here.”

  “Correct,” she replied easily. “From the west. Beyond the Republic.”

  Lyra look at her deeper and ask.

  “Name,” Lyra pressed.

  “Oh, how rude of me. Selvara. Alias — Chameleon.”

  Murmurs rippled.

  A beastman.

  An assassin.

  Inside the barracks.

  After an assassination attempt on the Margrave.

  Suspicion was natural.

  “Who did you serve?” Lyra asked.

  “A noble man who led armies.”

  Not nobleman.

  A noble man.

  Subtle distinction.

  Not blood.

  Character.

  Perhaps dead now.

  “Revenge?”

  “You could say that.”

  Clean answer.

  Romantic.

  Tragic.

  Plausible.

  Lyra didn’t relax.

  “With your skill, assassination would be more effective than joining open war.”

  Selvara’s tail flicked in irritation.

  “You think I didn’t try? First few times worked. Then they memorized my scent. Entire platoons chased me for days.”

  A few knights paled.

  No one wanted to imagine that.

  Before doubt could settle—

  An adventurer lunged from behind.

  Crack.

  Her tail moved faster than the eye.

  The dagger flew from his grip.

  Her tail coiled around his wrist, lifting him effortlessly.

  “I’ll tolerate that once. Try again, and I won’t promise restraint.”

  She released him gently.

  Message delivered.

  Deadly.

  Controlled.

  She could have killed.

  She didn’t.

  That mattered.

  The man who test her retreat many steps away.

  Pale.

  Then she turned back to Ivaline.

  “Why were you watching me?” Ivaline asked calmly.

  Selvara tilted her head.

  “Because you’re amusing.”

  “…..?”

  Ivaline also tilt her head in a mirror motion from Selvara.

  “Why?”

  Silence.

  Selvara blink and slowly ask.

  “Little one… do you know what the Human Supremacy doctrine is?”

  The hallway stiffened.

  Elves.

  Dwarves.

  Beastmen.

  Half-breeds.

  Ivaline blinked.

  “… what’s that?”

  Seraphine moved instinctively in front of Ivaline.

  Lyra and Vaelis as well.

  “You don’t need to—”

  “Stop,” Ivaline said.

  “I want to know”

  “Love… no. It’s not good.”

  “Darling… you better not.”

  “No.”

  All three of them protect her in their own will.

  But Ivaline choose to learn the truth.

  Selvara studied her.

  Then exhaled.

  “It’s simple. In some countries… humans are law. Everything else is property.”

  No lecture.

  Just a statement.

  “Full-blooded elves and dwarves? Trade partners. Useful. Tolerated.”

  Her amber eyes shifted slightly.

  “But beastmen? Orcs? Half-breeds?”

  A faint curl of her lip.

  “Livestock. Labor. Entertainment.”

  A knight swallowed.

  No one laughed.

  No one argued.

  Ivaline tilted her head slightly.

  “… why?”

  Selvara smiled faintly — not mocking. Tired.

  “Because fear is easier than coexistence. Because mixed blood threatens purity. Because power needs someone beneath it.”

  That line lands harder than a definition.

  Chronicle whisper inside Ivaline’s mind to told her something she once read but already forgotten.

  ‘Pinta is one of the few nations that rejected it. Stability through integration. Not dominance.’

  Ivaline pause and think.

  And reach her own conclusion.

  “… most countries would enslave someone like me?”

  “Yes.”

  Selvara didn’t smile this time.

  “When I saw you surrounded by people who love you openly… I found it amusing. So I followed.”

  There was no mockery.

  Only something quieter.

  “I’ve pass many country. Evem sone that not openly serve the doctrine still didn’t treat other kindly. The scene of you and your… lover? Felt quite new and tender for me.”

  Ivaline studier her for a while.

  “… accepted,” Ivaline said.

  Selvara brightened.

  “Thank you.”

  But Ivaline didn’t look convinced.

  Her perception hummed.

  Selvara had not lied.

  Not once.

  But truth felt… incomplete.

  There was something buried beneath those amber eyes.

  Not hostility.

  Not deception.

  Conflict.

  And that made her more dangerous than an enemy.

  Because an enemy attacks.

  Someone conflicted… chooses.

  And choices change wars.