Each of these women seemed to have formidable forces backing them—noble bloodlines, ancient sects, divine temples. Killing even one of them could bring storms of trouble upon her.
But the undead princess's thoughts crackled like lightning, sharp and ruthless. Her lips slowly curled into a wicked smile, one that oozed confidence and disdain.
"So what if they have mighty backgrounds?"
The scoff echoed in her mind like a thunderclap.
"Do they think my background is inferior?"
She wasn't alone here. Behind her, the boundless forces of the Undead Plain loomed—silent, eternal, and wrathful. They stood with her, a tide of decay ready to drown the living world.
Her gaze swept across the women before her, as if judging insects crawling across a divine path.
"Why should I care about their origins or backers? It is they who should tremble before me. It is they who should kneel and beg for mercy."
The moment that thought solidified, her presence erupted like a silent cataclysm.
