Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 183

Chapter 183: The Knights of Zxuriz
“The moon is dazzling…”

The palace stood as an obsidian monolith against the eternal twilight, its towering spires clawing at the storm-laden skies.

Strange, luminous runes pulsed faintly upon its darkened walls, a language long forgotten by the common realms.

The air was thick with unseen power, as though the structure itself breathed, alive with the whispers of those who had fallen to serve in silence.

Within the grand hall, three figures kneeled upon the cold marble, their black uniforms blending into the shadows that curled around them like living tendrils.

Each bore the insignia of the lotus, a mark seared into their flesh upon initiation, a symbol of unwavering loyalty to a master unseen.

Before them, at the farthest end of the chamber, stood their leader. His silhouette was tall, imposing, wrapped in flowing dark robes embroidered with threads of silver and crimson.

His face remained unseen, obscured by the flickering light of the braziers that cast long, wavering shadows upon the cavernous hall.

His hands, gloved and motionless, rested behind his back as he listened to their report.

“Master,” one of the shadow guards spoke, his voice steady but laced with reverence. “We have done what you ordered.”

A moment of silence stretched between them before the leader finally responded. “Good. This is the only way we can help the supreme leader.”

The second guard hesitated before speaking, his fingers twitching slightly at his side.

“But Master… the princess is the kingdom’s strategist. She might choose the royal position after all.”

There was a cold finality in the response. “Address the supreme commander properly.”

The third shadow guard bowed lower. “Master… when will the supreme commander return?”

The leader did not turn, his gaze fixed upon the vast, star-speckled abyss beyond the high arching windows of the palace.

“The supreme commander will return when the blue moon rises.”

A pause.

The guards exchanged glances.

They had pledged their lives to the order, trained in the art of silence, information, and deception, but even they were wary of the unknown forces at play.

They had heard the prophecies whispered within the temple’s deepest chambers.

The rise of the blue moon signified something far greater than a mere return, it heralded a change that would shake the very foundation of the galaxy.

The Zxuriz Temple of Knights was not an official branch of the Sirius Kingdom. It was an independent faction, existing within the shadows of power.

They did not serve kings, emperors, or rulers, they served the highest bidder.

Their blades had felled tyrants, their whispers had unraveled nations, and their presence in a battlefield ensured victory before a single strike was made.

The only absolute truth that governed them was coin. Money dictated their actions, but loyalty bound them to a greater purpose. They could be bought, but they were never owned.

Ahcehera had not built this order from ambition. She had built it from necessity.

To rule in light, one needed an army in the dark.

The knights of Zxuriz were ghosts, informants, and assassins. They did not seek honor, nor did they seek recognition.

They moved in shadows, unseen and unacknowledged, shaping the tides of war without a single soul knowing their names.

The world only saw the decisions of kings and emperors, never realizing that every move had been carefully orchestrated by those who remained nameless.

The initiation into the order was merciless. Only the most talented, the most cunning, and the most ruthless survived.

Failure was met with death. Betrayal was met with something far worse.

Their hierarchy was strict, their rules absolute.

Silence is survival. No member was to speak of their true purpose to outsiders. Loyalty is absolute.

Those who wavered, those who questioned, were erased without hesitation. Information is power.

Knowledge was their greatest weapon, and they wielded it without mercy. The Supreme Commander’s will is law.

No knight could act against the interests of their leader, no matter how much gold was offered.

The three kneeling knights knew this better than anyone.

One of them finally found the courage to speak again. “Master, the supreme commander… does she know of our intervention?”

A brief silence.

Then, a low, knowing chuckle escaped from the unseen leader.

“She knows everything.”

A flicker of unease passed through the guards. It was not fear of punishment that unsettled them, it was the sheer vastness of Ahcehera’s foresight.

If she knew, then she had already calculated the risks. The Zxuriz knights, for all their secrecy and cunning, were still playing within her grand design.

But what did it mean for them?

The master’s voice came once more, cold and unwavering.

“We continue as planned. The ores containing dark energy must be controlled. The flow of information must remain under our watch.”

A slow, deliberate step echoed in the vast chamber.

“The war is only beginning.” And with that, the meeting was dismissed.

As the three shadow guards stood and retreated, their footsteps made no sound against the polished obsidian floors.

The flickering braziers cast long, wavering shadows that danced along the darkened walls of the grand chamber.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, but the weight of unspoken words still lingered in the air.

The leader remained where he stood, gazing out into the vastness beyond the palace windows.

Stars burned brightly in the abyss, indifferent to the chaos unraveling across the galaxy. His gloved fingers curled slightly behind his back, a sign of deep contemplation.

Ahcehera knew everything.

She had foreseen their actions, accounted for their interference, and yet, she had done nothing to stop them. Why?

Was she testing their loyalty? Was she waiting for them to reveal something she had not yet foreseen?

Or was she simply allowing the chaos to unfold, knowing that in the end, the pieces would fall into place as they always did?

The Supreme Commander played a game far grander than any of them could comprehend.

The leader’s voice was a whisper against the silence, barely audible yet absolute in its weight. “We are but pieces in a war yet to be written.”

And with those final words, he disappeared into the darkness, leaving only the lingering scent of cold steel and the echo of fate moving ever closer.