Chapter 18. True Beauty (2)

***

Lin was not born for softness.

Her world was forged by the clash of steel on the battlefield, by the scent of sweat and blood carried on the desert wind. As the Beast King’s sister and supreme commander of the Lion legion, she bore the iron pride of Leovara in her very bones. Her body was a testament to strength: sun-drenched, tanned skin hardened by the harsh elements, a tall frame with firm muscles hidden beneath her battle attire. The faint scar on her cheek was not a flaw, but a trophy. Every line of her being was a monument to the only language her homeland revered: absolute power.

As for the rouge and silk of the human world’s courtesans?

She despised them. In her eyes, they were a foreign, feeble language, a frivolity unworthy of a second thought.

This conviction had been carved into her very marrow, a part of her being for decades.

Until the day they arrived—the beastfolk alliance from Caelan.

Unlike the pure-blooded Lion tribe with its rigid traditions, Caelan opened its arms to even celestial beastfolk—those who had achieved a fully human form, a state that pure-blooded beastfolk like her had to train for a century to even approach.

Sixty years ago, when the alliance was formed to prepare for the war between the three realms, Lin met them for the first time.

Among the Leovaran beastfolk, who still bore the distinct features of their species, the Caelan warriors stood out strangely.

They were tall but not coarse, their bodies perfectly proportioned, flexible, and graceful. Every line of their form was both majestic and surreal. Their beauty wasn't a fragile thing to be protected, but another form of power, a refined weapon Lin had never known. For the first time in her life, she, who had only ever worshipped physical strength, felt an inexplicable tightening in her chest.

And then, she saw him.

He stood there, a mesmerizing and paradoxical fusion.

He possessed the perfect features usually only seen in celestial beings—a beauty so harmonious it felt unreal.

But that beauty was anything but soft.

It was cloaked in the wild, ferocious nature of the bear clan. His bronzed skin was taut over solid muscle, his sharp features looked as if carved from granite, and above all, the aura of dominance radiating from him was enough to overwhelm even a warrior as proud as Lin.

He was at once as noble as a god and as primal as a beast. It was a dangerous kind of beauty. A beauty that left her breathless.

She did the only thing she knew to approach someone strong: she challenged him to duels, debated strategy, and used her prowess to close the distance between them. Combat was her language, and he answered it with overwhelming power.

Her initial curiosity quickly blossomed into deep admiration. A warrior like her had finally found a mountain taller than herself, and her heart of stone, which she believed to be impenetrable, stirred for the first time.

Lin did not conceal her feelings.

She confessed them, as direct and forceful as she was. Orson listened in silence, his gaze unwavering. When she finished, he spoke slowly, his voice low and resolute.

“Marshal Lin, you are the strongest warrior I have ever met. I deeply respect your directness. But I cannot return these feelings.”

His every word was both a validation and a dagger. Polite, respectful, yet leaving no room for hope. He refused without a moment’s hesitation, and in his eyes was the undisguised respect of one warrior for another. It was that very respect that made the rejection all the more bitter.

She didn't give up. She believed that if she was strong enough, brilliant enough, he would have to see her.

But then the whispers from his own legion reached her like venom.

They said Orson already had someone in his heart. Someone from the Celestial Realm.

A celestial being.

The words struck Lin's pride like an invisible hammer.

That night, she stood before a polished bronze mirror and, for the first time in her life, she truly looked at herself.

Not as a marshal, but as a woman. She saw the skin weathered by the dust of the battlefield, the hands calloused from wielding a sword, the features that were somewhat harsh, rugged.

Everything she had once worn as a badge of honor now seemed so common, so plain, when held against the imagined perfection of a "celestial being."

For the first time, she felt insecure. Not about her strength, but about the beauty she had always scorned.

Obsession began to gnaw at her from the inside.

Admiration did not die; it festered into bitterness. Determination did not fade; it rotted into madness. Love was no longer the goal. It had become a war she had to win at any cost.

In her madness, she sought out a lizard-kin, one rumored to possess the tribe’s most flawless transformation magic. It was no longer a choice, but the only path left. She no longer wanted to conquer Orson's heart. She wanted to steal the place that should have been hers.

To do that, she needed an ultimate weapon, a power she had never possessed.

A perfect face was all she needed.

And so, Lin began her frantic hunt. She ordered her subordinates to scour the Human Realm, to bring her anyone famed for their beauty.

But one after another, not a single face could satisfy the hunger gnawing at her.

"A useless lot!"

She would roar after each disappointment, her cold eyes sweeping over the beautiful but empty faces trembling at her feet. Humans might have softer skin and clearer eyes than beastfolk, but they were still missing something. An aura, a divinity, a surreal perfection she had seen in him. These faces were too mundane, too predictable. Orson would never notice.

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But she had to try, even for a sliver of hope.

Her subordinates brought her the woman lauded as the greatest beauty in a human kingdom. She had the transformer flay the woman’s face and graft it onto her own. The body was smaller, the skin smoother, but when she looked in the mirror, she saw only a soulless doll.

He didn't even glance at her once at the banquet that night. Her efforts earned her nothing but cold indifference.

Desperation ate away at her like acid.

With each passing day, the image of that "celestial" grew more obsessive, and her own face in the mirror grew more hateful. Her hunt was no longer for love; it had become a war against fate itself, a crazed demonstration that she, too, could possess that kind of beauty.

And then, at last, the day came.

—

In a sun-drenched corridor, where the air was thick with the dust and iron rust of Leovara, a figure drifted past.

White hair, like snow.

Not the brittle silver of old age, but the pure white of condensed moonlight, glowing almost absurdly in the harsh, arid surroundings.

Lin snapped her head around, her heart seized by an invisible hand. A current shot down her spine, and her entire body grew hot—a mixture of trembling elation, burning jealousy, and a yearning she couldn't name.

From the very first glimpse of that silhouette, she knew.

This was not just the weapon she had been searching for. This was the answer.

A beauty so ethereal it didn't seem to belong to the mortal realm, one that was captivatingly cruel even in its dazed and trembling state. Everything she had never found in herself, everything she both craved and despised, was now within her grasp.

And to obtain it, she was willing to erase the original—even if it meant staining her hands red with blood.

—

She strode forward, her steps firm, and grabbed the girl’s wrist.

So small.

The thought flashed through her mind. So fragile it felt as if a single squeeze could break it.

But when the girl turned around, Lin truly stopped breathing.

The world around her seemed to blur, the sounds of Leovara fading into a distant hum. She had lived for nearly a century, her eyes accustomed to angular faces and sun-weathered skin. But the face before her… it didn't belong to this world.

Her eyes were not the familiar gold or brown of the Lion tribe, but a clear, ash-gray, as still as a lake after a rainstorm. Long, thick lashes curled upward, casting a soft shadow on her cheeks. When she blinked in surprise, Lin felt as if the entire universe had just trembled in slow motion.

Below those eyes was a straight, delicate nose that sloped down to small, full lips, the color of a natural, pale pink, like cherry blossoms just opened in the morning mist.

And… that skin. It wasn't the healthy tan of the Lion tribe, but a white so pure it was almost translucent, flawless and smooth, as if crafted from precious porcelain or crushed moonlight. The Leovaran sun, which had made Lin’s own skin coarse and calloused, now seemed hesitant, daring only to skim lightly across that skin, making it glow with a soft, gentle blush.

All of these features were set on a perfectly oval face, so harmonious it was breathtaking.

This beauty wasn't sharp or arrogant. It was gentle, pure. And it was that very softness that was the cruelest weapon of all, stabbing directly into every scar on her soul, into the insecurity Lin had buried for so long.

A tidal wave of injustice drowned her reason.

Admiration. Envy. Hatred. The three emotions swirled together, tearing her apart from the inside.

She unconsciously tightened her grip, her nails nearly digging into the girl’s delicate flesh, and only snapped out of it when a clear, soft whimper escaped the girl’s lips. Even that sound was so sweet it made her feel both affection and absolute loathing.

But then, the girl mentioned Orson.

The name was like a bucket of ice water thrown on the chaotic fire in Lin’s heart, extinguishing any fleeting affection and leaving only the cold ashes of jealousy. The brutal reality returned, sharp and clear.

This… This was her rival. The cause of all her pain. The face she had to claim.

The plan had long been in place, lacking only the final piece.

And now, this flawless gem had rolled right into her hands.

***

Lin remained seated before the mirror, lost in admiration of her new appearance. Her fingers glided through the soft white hair, the lips she had stolen from Ami curling into a deeply satisfied smile.

Now, all that was left was to tell him, and… Lin thought, her gaze falling upon Ami's body, cold and unfeeling. It was just an empty shell now.

“Master… what should we do with… her?” Leva asked cautiously, her eyes darting toward Ami.

“Lena, you know what to do,” Lin said without turning around. Her voice, now a strange replica of Ami’s, echoed in the room.

“Yes, Master.” Lena bowed and motioned for Leva to follow.

“L-Lena?” Leva stammered, confused.

“You and I will bury the body. The others will clean up here,” Lena whispered, her voice flat and emotionless.

She strode over and turned Ami’s body over with a decisive movement. Ami’s face was now deathly pale, her body beginning to stiffen. Leva shuddered, her eyes fixed on the scene with unconcealed horror.

Seeing this, Lena sighed softly and lifted the body herself without asking Leva for help.

This was Leva’s first time. She, on the other hand, was far too used to it.

Lena partially transformed into her lion form, placing Ami on her back before leading Leva deep into the forest.

They walked down familiar paths, where the air grew damp and cold.

“Hngh!”

Leva let out an involuntary gasp as they entered a denser part of the woods. A foul stench began to assault her nostrils, growing thicker, almost tangible, the deeper they went. Leva shivered uncontrollably, hugging herself tightly, trying to stay calm so as not to bother Lena.

But that fragile composure was soon shattered by a sight of absolute horror.

“Aaaaaaa!” Leva let out a piercing scream, collapsing to the ground and clutching her head as she trembled. “L-Lena… w-why…” she stammered, her words a jumbled mess, her eyes squeezed shut, refusing to look up.

Before them was a massive pit, filled not with dirt, but with a hill made from hundreds of female corpses in various states of decay. Arms and legs were tangled together, pale faces with wide, soulless eyes stared up from all directions.

In contrast, Lena just stared at Leva with an empty gaze. She had seen this reaction too many times.

“Get up, Leva,” she said, then simply walked forward and tossed Ami’s body onto the pile with a dry, practiced motion.

“How are you going to take my place if you’re this cowardly?” Lena said, turning back, her voice stern.

Leva was still trembling, not daring to look up.

“B-but you didn’t say… we’d be doing… this…” she whimpered, her voice barely a whisper.

“LEVA!” Lena roared, the sound of a lioness making Leva jump. She strode over, grabbed Leva’s arm, and yanked her to her feet, dragging her forward.

“Aaaaaah, no, please, I’m begging you!” Leva cried, struggling.

She stumbled and fell, and when she opened her eyes, the wide, staring eyes of a nearby corpse were locked onto hers. Leva screamed and scrambled backward, but after crawling a few feet, her hand touched something soft and mushy. She trembled and looked back.

“AAAAAAAH!” she shrieked, her hand having just touched the rotting flesh of a faceless corpse.

Leva scrambled to her feet, ran to Lena, and fell to her knees, grabbing her legs.

“Lena, I’m begging you, please don’t make me do this! Please! I can’t, I really can’t…” she sobbed hysterically, tears streaming down her face.

Lena looked down at her, a flicker of sadness appearing in her otherwise empty eyes. She crouched down, slowly reaching out to wipe the tears from Leva’s cheeks.

“Quiet now, Leva,” she said, her voice hoarse, stripped of its usual severity.

“After I am transformed into Master Lin, you will be the one to take my place, to serve her. How can I rest easy if you keep crying like this?”

Leva froze mid-sob. “T-transformed… into Master Lin? I… I don’t understand.”

Lena offered a sad, rare smile.

“You will. Just remember, we are warriors of Leovara. We live for our master, and we die for her. Now, be strong, Leva. You will—”

THUD!

A heavy, dull impact echoed. Lena’s words were cut off abruptly. She crumpled, her eyes still wide with surprise as she looked at Leva, then collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Leva was frozen, a scream caught in her throat. She trembled as she looked up, then all around.

There was no one there.

Only the silent trees, the cold pile of bodies, and the overwhelming stench of death. “Lena—A”

THUD!

Another blow slammed into the back of Leva’s neck. She felt a single, sharp burst of pain before everything went dark.

The silence that blanketed the forest was heavy enough to smother the sound of the wind sighing through the leaves.

Then, a faint sound broke the stillness, alien and out of place.

Crunch.

A soft noise, like a boot pressing down on a carpet of dry leaves and rotted twigs. But all around, aside from the two unconscious bodies and the pile of corpses, there was no one.

Crunch… crunch.

The footsteps repeated, steady and slow, seeming to emanate from nowhere.

Then, the shadows beneath a great ancient tree seemed to thicken, to ripple like water. A patch of darkness slowly peeled itself away from the night, condensing into a human form. The figure emerged without haste, as if he had always been standing there, simply unseen by mortal eyes.

The iron rod, still matted with a few strands of hair and a faint smear of blood, was dropped to the ground.

A cold clang rang out, shattering the eerie silence.

“Having a heart-to-heart in a place like this… how sentimental.”

The voice was laced with a casual, mocking tone that was completely at odds with the grim scene.

The figure stepped over the two unconscious beastfolk with indifference, as if they were nothing more than rocks in his path. He walked directly to where Ami lay atop the hill of dried corpses. Her face, though pale, remained strangely pure, like a snowflake that had fallen in a graveyard.

“Heh…” A low, satisfied chuckle escaped his lips, the sound echoing in the dead silence of the forest.

“Easier than I thought…”

He knelt on one knee, reaching out, his long fingers gently brushing a stray strand of white hair from Ami’s cheek.

In the darkness of the dead forest, his eyes gleamed with amusement, the absolute satisfaction of a collector who had just found his most precious treasure.