The Overlord had been watching my forces for some time—I knew that much. It was only a matter of when, not if, he would decide to imitate them.
His answer came sooner than expected.
He called it the Invincible Stone Army, a future legion forged from a rare, ancient stone infused with latent power. The material itself was extraordinary—dense, resonant, and stubbornly resistant to magic. Perfect for war. Perfect for domination.
I made sure to acquire as much of it as I could.
Not easily, of course. The Overlord guarded the stone like a dragon hoarding its first clutch of eggs. Every fragment was tracked. Every shipment warded. That meant I couldn't upgrade my entire force—not without drawing attention.
So I didn't.
Instead, I chose the elite.
My finest stone soldiers were reforged, their bodies layered with the material, their cores strengthened just enough to rival what the Overlord was building. Not surpass—yet. Subtlety mattered. Matching him was enough for now.
While the forges burned and my witches worked, I turned my attention to the Overlord himself.
He was weakened. Not broken, not careless—but diminished. The kind of vulnerability that only someone like me would notice.
That was when I attached the parasite.
A delicate thing, woven from layered sigils and living mana, designed not to seize—but to sip. A slow, patient drain. So slight it would blend into the background hum of his own immense power. He would notice eventually, of course. Someone like him always did.
But by then, it wouldn't matter.
I didn't need much. Just a little. And over time, a little would become enough.
I felt no guilt.
The Overlord was going to betray me. That much was inevitable. This was not theft—it was preparation. Insurance. If I was taking his power, it was only because I intended to survive what he would eventually try.
With that done, I turned to my final preparations.
There were still subordinates I had yet to summon.
The air cracked as the circle flared to life, ancient runes burning with purpose. From the heart of the summoning stepped Ruina Stoneheart.
A witch like me.
Powerful. Calculated. Dangerous.
Stone answered her call as naturally as breath, and the magic around her felt old—older than most wars, older than most grudges. She met my gaze without fear, recognition flashing briefly in her eyes.
And more importantly—
She was Clay's mother.
Her presence alone shifted the balance. With Ruina at my side, the next battle would not merely be fought.
It would be decided.