The village appears on the horizon just after midday—a cluster of modest buildings nestled in a valley where the rocky terrain gives way to cultivated fields.
Peaceful. Unsuspecting. *Perfect.*
"Our first harvest," Ghatak murmurs beside me, his voice carrying a note of anticipation that makes something dark and hungry stir in my chest.
I feel it then—that familiar itch beneath my skin. The one I've been suppressing for weeks, maybe months. Maybe *years*.
The need to *hurt*.
Not out of necessity. Not for survival or strategy or the greater good of my civilization.
Just because I *want* to.
"How many, do you think?" I ask, keeping my tone conversational as we guide our horses down the slope.
"Six hundred. Maybe more." Ghatak's eyes gleam with dark promise. "Mostly women and children, from the look of it. The men will be in the fields."
*Women and children.*
The thought should give me pause. Should trigger some remnant of conscience or compassion.
It doesn't.
"Perfect for the breeding program," I say, and it's true—but that's not why my pulse quickens. That's not why I can feel chaos magic crackling at my fingertips, eager to be unleashed.
I want this.
I've *always* wanted this.
I just stopped pretending I didn't.
---
We ride into the village square at a leisurely pace. No need to rush. No need for stealth or surprise.
They're not going anywhere.
An elderly woman notices us first—her weathered face breaking into a welcoming smile as she sets down her basket of vegetables.
"Travelers!" she calls. "Welcome to Millbrook. You must be weary from the road. Can we offer you—"
I raise my hand, and chaos magic erupts.
The woman doesn't even have time to scream. Reality bends around her, gravity inverting, time stuttering. Her body folds in on itself with a wet *crunch* that echoes across the square.
For a heartbeat, there's silence.
Then the screaming starts.
It's beautiful, in its way.
The panic. The terror. The desperate, futile attempts to flee or fight or hide.
I walk through the village square, and chaos follows in my wake. Buildings collapse. The ground splits open. The air itself seems to *tear*, creating pockets of distorted reality that catch fleeing villagers and unmake them piece by piece.
A mother clutches her child, trying to shield the boy with her body. I pause before them, tilting my head.
"Please," she gasps. "Please, he's just a child—"
"I know," I say pleasantly. "That's why I'm taking him."
I wrap chaos around them both—not killing, just *restraining*. The woman struggles, screaming, but it's useless. The child stares at me with wide, uncomprehending eyes.
*Good.*
Let them be afraid.
Let them understand what it means to be powerless.
Ghatak moves through the eastern section of the village like a force of nature.
Void energy manifests as tendrils of absolute darkness, wrapping around anyone who tries to run. Some he erases completely—not killed, but *unmade*. Removed from existence as if they'd never been.
Others he leaves intact but broken—bones shattered, minds fractured by the touch of the void.
"Astraea!" he calls, his voice carrying across the chaos. "The fields!"
I turn and see them—a group of men running toward the village, drawn by the screams. They carry farming tools as weapons. Pitchforks. Scythes. Hoes.
*How quaint.*
I raise both hands, and the earth beneath them erupts.
Chaos magic tears through the ground, creating fissures that swallow half the group whole. The survivors stumble, falling, scrambling to escape.
They don't make it far.
Ghatak's void energy catches them, dragging them down into darkness. Their screams cut off abruptly.
Silence falls over the fields.
It takes less than an hour.
By the time the sun begins its descent toward the horizon, the village is ours.
Six hundred and thirty-seven people, to be precise. I counted.
They're gathered in the square now—huddled together, weeping, trembling. Some are injured. Most are simply terrified.
I walk among them, and they flinch away from my presence.
*Good.*
"You're probably wondering why you're still alive," I say, my voice carrying across the square. "Why I didn't simply kill you all."
No one answers. A few sob quietly.
"It's because you're *useful*," I continue. "You're going to help me build something. A new civilization. A better world."
"You're a monster," someone whispers—a young woman with blood streaking her face.
I crouch before her, meeting her eyes. "Yes," I say simply. "I am. And you're going to forget that very soon."
The memory wiping is almost meditative.
I move through the crowd systematically, placing my hand on each person's forehead. Void magic flows from my fingertips—not destructive this time, but *erasive*.
I don't just remove memories. I create *blank spaces* where their identities used to be.
The first woman I touch goes rigid, her eyes widening. Then they glaze over, becoming empty and distant.
"What's your name?" I ask.
She stares at me, mouth opening and closing. No sound emerges.
"Where are you from?"
Nothing.
"Do you recognize this woman?" I gesture to another villager—her sister, based on the resemblance.
The woman looks at her sister with no recognition. No emotion. Just... *nothing*.
*Perfect.*
I move to the next person. And the next. And the next.
Some resist—trying to pull away, to fight the magic. It doesn't matter. The void is absolute. It takes what it wants.
A mother clutches her child, and I wipe them both. When I'm done, they sit side by side, strangers to each other. The child doesn't cry for his mother. The mother doesn't reach for her son.
They're blank. Empty. *Mine*.
Ghatak watches from the edge of the square, his expression one of dark satisfaction.
"Beautiful work," he says when I finish. "Efficient. Thorough."
"They'll need reeducation," I say, wiping blood from my hands. "New identities. New purposes."
"The breeding program?"
"Some of them." I survey the crowd of empty-eyed villagers. "The rest will serve other functions. Labor. Service. Whatever we need."
"And if they remember?"
"They won't." I'm certain of this. "The void doesn't leave fragments. It leaves *nothing*."
Ghatak steps closer, his hand finding the small of my back. "You enjoyed that."
It's not a question.
"Yes," I admit. "I did."
"Good." His fingers trace up my spine. "You shouldn't have to hide what you are. Not from me. Not from anyone."
The portal tears open with a sound like reality screaming.
The villagers don't react—they're too far gone for that. They simply stand and walk when I command them, filing through the dimensional gateway like livestock.
Six hundred and thirty-seven people disappear into the swirling violet light, bound for Vernike. For the DNA labs. For reeducation and repurposing.
For a future they'll never remember choosing.
The last one steps through, and I close the portal with a gesture.
Silence falls over the empty village.
"Come here," Ghatak says, his voice low and rough.
I turn to find him watching me with an intensity that makes heat pool low in my belly.
"We should go," I say, but I don't move.
"In a moment." He closes the distance between us, his hands framing my face. "First, I want to savor this."
"Savor what?"
"*You.*" His thumb traces my lower lip. "Finally letting yourself be what you were always meant to be."
He kisses me, and it's not gentle. It's claiming. Possessive. Fueled by the adrenaline and satisfaction of what we've just done.
I kiss him back with equal fervor, my hands fisting in his shirt. We're surrounded by destruction—collapsed buildings, scorched earth, the lingering scent of blood and terror.
And I've never felt more *alive*.
"They had no idea what they were dealing with," Ghatak murmurs against my mouth. "Neither do most on this world."
"And you?" I pull back just enough to meet his eyes. "Do *you* know what you're dealing with?"
His smile is sharp and dangerous. "I know exactly what you are, Astraea. A force of nature. A goddess of chaos and destruction."
"And that doesn't frighten you?"
"It *excites* me." His hands slide down to my hips, pulling me flush against him. "Because I'm the same. We're the same."
*We're the same.*
The words resonate in my chest like a war drum.
"Why were you sealed away?" I ask suddenly. "What did you do that was so terrible they had to lock you in a hidden chamber for millennia?"
His expression darkens, but there's satisfaction in it. Pride, even.
"I reminded them," he says quietly, "that void dragons are not meant to be controlled. That we are *apex predators*, and the world exists at our mercy."
"What did you do?" I press.
"I harvested an entire continent." His eyes gleam with dark memory. "Thirty million souls. I wiped their memories, repurposed them, rebuilt their civilization from the ground up according to my design."
*Thirty million.*
The number should horrify me.
Instead, I feel a thrill of recognition. Of *kinship*.
"And they sealed you for it?"
"They feared what I'd do next." He cups my face, forcing me to hold his gaze. "But I'm free now. And I have you. Together, we're going to reshape this world and every world we touch."
"Starting with Aerox."
"Starting with Aerox," he confirms. "One village at a time."
We leave Millbrook as the sun sets, painting the sky in shades of blood and fire.
The village is empty now. Silent. A ghost town that will puzzle travelers for years to come.
*Where did everyone go?*
*What happened here?*
They'll never know.
And I don't care.
"How many more villages between here and Vesper?" I ask as we ride west.
"Thirteen," Ghatak says. "Maybe fourteen, depending on the route."
*Thirteen more harvests.*
*Thirteen more opportunities to feed this hunger.*
I feel it stirring again already—that dark, insatiable need. The one I've been suppressing for so long.
But I'm done suppressing it.
I'm done pretending to be something I'm not.
I'm a dragon. A predator. A force of nature that takes what it wants and destroys what stands in its way.
And if that makes me a villain?
*Good.*
Let them fear me.
Let them whisper my name in terror.
Let them understand that Astraea Shinazugawa is not a savior or a hero or a benevolent ruler.
I'm a *conqueror*.
And this is only the beginning.
We make camp that night in a rocky outcropping overlooking the western route.
Ghatak builds a fire while I stand at the edge, looking back toward where Millbrook used to be.
I feel no guilt. No remorse. No doubt.
Only satisfaction.
And hunger for more.
"Astraea," Ghatak calls softly.
I turn to find him watching me, firelight dancing across his features.
"Come to bed," he says. "We have a long journey ahead."
*Thirteen more villages.*
*Thirteen more harvests.*
I smile—sharp and cold and utterly without mercy.
"Yes," I say. "We do."
I join him by the fire, and we sit together in comfortable silence.
Two dragons who've finally stopped pretending to be anything other than what we are.
Two villains building an empire one massacre at a time.
And I've never been happier.