Chapter 54: The Lioness Behind the Crown

I was still staring at my fists when the forest decided the previous massacre had somehow not been dramatic enough.

A flicker moved behind Leyra.

Not footsteps.

Not leaves.

Not even a proper shape.

Just the faintest distortion in the air.

My eyes snapped toward it.

Too late.

An assassin appeared directly behind her.

One second, nothing.

The next, a man in dark leather stood pressed against the crown princess with one arm around her and a dagger held against her throat.

Our knights reacted instantly.

Steel came free from scabbards.

Half a dozen swords pointed toward him.

Others moved to surround the carriage.

The assassin tightened his grip.

“Take one step and I cut her throat!”

Everything froze.

Knights.

Horses.

Even the surviving assassins farther down the road stopped running long enough to see what would happen.

The man clearly thought he had done something brilliant.

To be fair, under normal circumstances, grabbing the crown princess and putting a blade to her neck was a strong tactical move.

Unfortunately for him, he had chosen Leyra.

I looked at him.

Then at her.

Her expression was almost offensively calm.

I sighed.

“My guy.”

The assassin’s eyes narrowed.

“I think you picked the wrong hostage.”

Confusion crossed his face.

“What?”

Leyra moved.

Fast.

Her heel came down on his foot.

Not stepped.

Not stomped.

Destroyed.

The impact cracked like a hammer striking stone.

The road beneath them shattered.

A circular fracture burst outward through the dirt and rock.

The assassin’s boot collapsed under the force, followed by everything unfortunate enough to be inside it.

His scream ripped through the forest.

“AAGH!”

His dagger jerked away from Leyra’s throat.

That was all she needed.

Leyra turned.

Her entire demeanor changed in the same instant.

No delicate crown princess.

No elegant royal traveler.

The woman who had once ruled an underground arena stepped forward.

Light erupted around both of her arms.

Bright.

Dense.

Golden-white energy wrapped from her fists to her elbows, outlining every movement.

The assassin barely had enough time to look up.

Leyra drew one fist back.

“Light Buster.”

Punch.

The first impact struck his torso.

Light detonated.

A violent flash swallowed half his body and launched what remained backward.

Before he could even fall, Leyra stepped in.

Second punch.

Another explosion.

The sound slammed through the road like thunder trapped inside a metal box.

Blood sprayed across the broken ground.

Fragments of armor spun through the air.

When the light faded, there was no hostage situation anymore.

Mostly because there was barely enough assassin left to legally identify as a situation.

Silence.

Complete.

Wonderful.

The knights stared.

Not at the corpse.

At Leyra.

Every single one of them looked as if their understanding of reality had just been kicked down a staircase.

Their delicate crown princess stood in the middle of a cracked road, golden light fading from her fists while blood dotted the ground around her.

Leyra looked down at herself.

Then casually flicked her hair behind one shoulder.

Smooth.

Elegant.

Royal.

As if she had not just dismantled a professional assassin with two punches.

She looked toward the remaining attackers.

“I hope the next group is better.”

Nobody responded.

Leyra smiled.

“I’m starting to enjoy being ambushed.”

I laughed.

Several knights slowly looked at me.

Then back at her.

Then at me again.

Their expressions all shared the same silent question.

WHAT?

I pointed toward Leyra.

“You haven't even had a proper fight yet.”

She gave me a mildly offended look.

“That counted.”

“That was one man.”

“He threatened me.”

“Then immediately became a demonstration.”

Leyra smiled.

The surviving assassins had clearly reached a different conclusion.

One man near the trees slowly lowered his weapon.

“No.”

Someone beside him looked at him.

“What?”

The first man stepped backward.

“Not worth it.”

Smartest person here.

Another followed.

Then another.

Within seconds, whatever remained of the first ambush scattered into the forest.

Nobody chased them.

I certainly wasn't going to.

If they wanted to tell every cutthroat between here and the capital that the supposed diplomat could reduce people into educational stains while the supposed helpless princess punched men apart with exploding light, that sounded like free advertising.

The knights remained silent.

Leyra walked toward the carriage.

One knight visibly moved aside before she even came close.

I smiled at him.

“Relax.”

He looked at me.

“Sir?”

“She doesn't usually hit allies.”

Leyra looked over her shoulder.

“Usually?”

I shrugged.

“I’m protecting morale.”

“You are damaging it.”

“Also possible.”

We returned to the carriage.

The road was cleared enough for us to continue.

Bodies were moved.

The broken fake merchant wagon was dragged aside.

Our escort reformed around us.

And within minutes, we were traveling again.

The knights behaved differently now.

Not dramatically.

They were professionals.

Nobody started whispering loudly or pointing at Leyra.

But every now and then, one of them would look toward the carriage.

Then quickly look away.

I could practically hear their thoughts.

Princess Leyra can fight?

Princess Leyra can fight LIKE THAT?

How long has she been able to do that?

Should we tell anyone?

Will she punch us if we ask?

Reasonable questions.

I sat across from her.

Leyra looked completely relaxed.

I leaned forward.

“So.”

She looked at me.

“So?”

“You just traumatized your escort.”

Her lips curved.

“They'll survive.”

“One of them looked like he needed religious guidance.”

“That seems excessive.”

“You exploded a man.”

“He deserved it.”

“True.”

She looked outside.

I studied her for a moment.

Something about her had changed after that fight.

Not physically.

Internally.

The tension I normally saw whenever her hidden strength risked being exposed was missing.

She wasn't panicking.

She wasn't asking what the knights had seen.

She wasn't inventing excuses.

She had simply fought.

Openly.

And now she was sitting in the carriage like nothing had happened.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

Less than an hour passed.

Not even enough time for everyone to fully process the first attack.

Then the carriage slowed again.

I looked toward the window.

“Oh, come on.”

Leyra leaned toward the other side.

Ahead stood a barricade.

Wooden beams blocked most of the road.

Several men wearing local guard clothing stood around it.

Badly.

Very badly.

They had uniforms.

Spears.

Matching armbands.

Even helmets.

But their posture was wrong.

Real guards looked bored until something happened.

These men looked tense while pretending to be bored.

Amateurs.

I sighed.

“Round two.”

Leyra smiled.

This time she reached toward the luggage beside her.

I watched.

“What are you doing?”

“Changing.”

My eyebrow rose.

She pulled out dark clothing.

Familiar dark clothing.

Leather.

Flexible fabric.

Reinforced sections.

My smile widened.

“No.”

“Yes.”

The Merciless Lioness outfit.

The same gear she had worn underground.

The same outfit she had fought me in.

Minus the mask.

Interesting choice.

Leyra changed quickly inside the carriage.

I politely looked outside.

Mostly.

When she finished, she sat opposite me wearing the full combat outfit.

No royal dress.

No princess decorations.

No mask hiding her face.

Just Leyra.

The real one.

Her golden hair tied back enough to stay out of the way.

Blue eyes bright with anticipation.

She looked terrifyingly happy.

I smiled.

“That looks good on you.”

“I know.”

Confidence.

Very nice.

The carriage stopped.

I stepped outside first.

Our knights dismounted.

The fake guards approached.

One lifted a hand.

“Travelers must stop here.”

I looked at the barricade.

Then at him.

Then at the other fake guards.

They were staring at the royal crest on the carriage like men trying to pretend they had no idea what it meant.

Excellent acting.

Award-winning.

I folded my arms.

“How original.”

The nearest man frowned.

“Sir?”

“A barricade.”

I gestured around.

“After the broken merchant wagon, I expected something with more creativity.”

Several fake guards stiffened.

Behind me, the carriage door opened.

Leyra stepped out.

Silence.

Not from the assassins.

From our knights.

One knight's mouth actually opened.

Another looked at her clothes.

Then at her face.

Then back at the clothes.

Recognition slowly arrived.

Not full recognition of her identity as the Merciless Lioness, perhaps.

But enough to understand that the outfit belonged to someone expecting violence.

The fake guards looked equally confused.

They had expected Crown Princess Leyra.

Elegant.

Protected.

Probably frightened.

Instead, a beautiful Lionkin woman in combat gear stepped onto the road looking like she was about to enjoy herself.

I stretched my shoulders.

“Can we skip the performance?”

The fake guard frowned.

“I don't understand.”

“Of course you don't.”

I pointed toward the forest.

“Let's jump straight to the part where your overwhelming numbers pour out of the trees and everybody tries cutting our throats.”

His face changed.

Barely.

Enough.

I smiled.

“There we go.”

The man drew his sword.

The others followed.

At the same moment, hidden attackers erupted from both sides of the road.

Dozens again.

Maybe more.

Leyra smiled.

Not princess smile.

Lioness smile.

“Finally.”

Then she vanished.

Not magic.

Speed.

The road exploded beneath her first step.

Dust burst outward.

Before the nearest fake guard could even raise his sword, Leyra was in front of him.

Punch.

Light Buster ignited on impact.

The man disappeared inside an explosion of golden-white light.

His body flew backward through the barricade.

Wood shattered.

Leyra was already moving.

Second attacker.

She ducked beneath a spear.

Rotated.

Elbow to the ribs.

Crack.

Then a glowing fist slammed into his chest.

Boom.

He was thrown into two men behind him.

Leyra followed.

No hesitation.

No restraint.

Her fighting style looked completely different when she stopped pretending to be delicate.

Fast.

Aggressive.

Precise.

Beautiful.

Every step positioned her for the next attack.

Every dodge became a counter.

Every block redirected into something violent.

A sword came down toward her head.

Leyra shifted half a step sideways.

The blade missed by inches.

She grabbed the attacker’s wrist.

Pulled.

Knee into the stomach.

Then a Light Buster punch exploded against his side.

The flash briefly turned the forest gold.

The man vanished into the trees.

Another charged.

Leyra spun.

Her heel struck his jaw.

His head snapped sideways.

Before he hit the ground, she was already fighting someone else.

I leaned against the carriage.

One knight looked at me.

“Aren't you helping?”

“She looks happy.”

He stared at Leyra.

Another explosion sounded.

Someone screamed.

I nodded.

“Very happy.”

The knight looked uncertain.

Fair.

Most people did not associate royal protection duties with allowing the crown princess to personally dismantle ambushes.

I did.

Different management philosophy.

The assassins swarmed Leyra.

Terrible choice.

Light Buster erupted again.

And again.

And again.

Every explosion punched holes through their formation.

The road shook.

Leaves rained from nearby branches.

Bodies hit the ground.

Some attackers tried reaching the carriage instead.

Our knights engaged them.

Steel clashed.

Spears thrust.

Shields locked.

One assassin somehow slipped through the line and reached me.

He swung.

I moved half a step.

His blade passed beside my face.

I punched him.

Not hard.

Or at least not intentionally hard.

His torso burst apart.

Blood sprayed across the road.

I stared at the remains.

“Still adjusting.”

Another got through.

I hit him too.

Same result.

I looked at my hand.

“Okay, maybe fists need a lower setting.”

Apparently nobody had installed one.

The battle continued.

Leyra tore through attackers like she had been personally offended by the concept of hired labor.

Then a roar shook the forest.

Not magical.

Human.

Or Beastkin.

Whatever.

Deep enough that even the fighting paused.

Something large moved between the trees.

Branches snapped.

Leaves shook.

Then a massive man stepped onto the road.

Huge.

Easily taller than most of the assassins around him.

Broad shoulders.

Heavy armor.

A massive greatsword rested in both hands.

The blade looked thick enough to qualify as construction material.

He shoved one wounded assassin aside.

“Enough.”

His voice carried.

Everyone looked.

He raised the sword.

“Playtime is over.”

I smiled.

Finally.

He pointed the blade toward us.

“You die here.”

I stepped away from the carriage.

Leyra looked at me.

I raised one hand.

“My turn.”

Her expression said she wanted him.

I smiled.

“You've had plenty.”

She sighed.

Fine.

The large man charged.

Fast for his size.

Every step hit the road heavily enough to shake dust loose.

He raised the greatsword over one shoulder.

I extended my hand.

Magic responded.

One circle appeared.

Then another behind it.

Then a third.

Three enormous rings of burning symbols unfolded through the air.

Orange.

Red.

White-hot at the center.

Heat slammed across the road.

Grass curled instantly.

The nearest assassins stumbled backward.

The large man kept charging.

Brave.

Stupid.

Fine line.

I felt the spell gathering.

This was Treez’s fire magic.

Except after Dahera, after everything that had changed inside me, it felt less like casting a spell and more like opening a door behind which a volcano had been patiently waiting.

The man roared.

I smiled.

“Inferno Blast.”

The circles ignited.

Fire erupted.

Not a projectile.

A flood.

A roaring column of flame wider than the road exploded forward.

The sound swallowed everything.

The forest vanished behind orange-white light.

Heat struck hard enough that our knights shielded their faces.

The charging man disappeared instantly.

No dramatic scream.

No heroic resistance.

One second he existed.

The next, fire consumed him.

The blast continued.

Trees behind him ignited.

Then blackened.

Then collapsed into ash.

The ground itself scorched.

Stone cracked under the heat.

Leaves evaporated before they could catch fire.

The entire road ahead became a tunnel of roaring flame.

For several seconds, nothing else existed.

Then I closed my hand.

The inferno died.

Smoke rolled across the forest.

Heavy.

Dark.

The air shimmered violently from the remaining heat.

Where the massive man had been?

Nothing.

No body.

No sword.

No armor.

No dramatic final pose.

Just a long black scar carved through the road and an empty space where somebody with impressive confidence had made an unfortunate career decision.

The forest behind him was gone for several meters.

Burned trunks stood farther back like charcoal pillars.

Ash floated through the air.

The remaining assassins froze.

Every single one.

I slowly lowered my hand.

Then looked around.

“Who's next?”

Nobody moved.

One man dropped his sword.

Another shook his head.

“No.”

A third was already running.

That apparently settled it.

The entire surviving force fled.

Some vanished into the trees.

Others sprinted down the road.

One tripped over the broken barricade, stood again, and continued without recovering his weapon.

I watched them go.

Then sighed.

“Yeah.”

Leyra walked toward me.

Blood dotted her combat clothes.

Her breathing was slightly heavier, but she looked more energized than tired.

I nodded toward the fleeing assassins.

“Whoever hired them definitely didn't pay enough.”

Leyra laughed.

“No amount would have been enough.”

“True.”

She looked toward the blackened road ahead.

Then toward the forest.

“This may be what the rest of the journey looks like.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Repeated assassination attempts?”

“Yes.”

“Wonderful.”

“We fight our way toward the capital.”

I smiled.

“Then I hope these nobles have a large budget.”

Leyra looked amused.

“Why?”

“I'd hate for them to run out of assassins before we arrive.”

She laughed.

Actually laughed.

Not court laughter.

Not a princess politely responding to a noble's joke.

Real laughter.

I liked that sound.

She looked at me.

“You really enjoy fighting.”

I considered it.

Then nodded.

“Since discovering I can actually fight?”

“Yes.”

“I started enjoying it.”

Leyra smiled knowingly.

I raised one finger.

“But if I'm being precise…”

She waited.

“I enjoy winning more than fighting.”

“That sounds like you.”

“I prefer hobbies where I succeed.”

“Coward.”

“Efficient.”

Leyra turned toward the road ahead.

Past the ruined barricade.

Beyond the trees rose distant hills.

Her expression changed slightly.

Not worried.

Anticipating.

“What?”

She pointed.

“Behind those hills is Ihin.”

The name meant nothing to me.

“Should I know that?”

“It is a lawless town.”

Ah.

Better.

“How lawless?”

Leyra looked at me.

“If you want cutthroats…”

She gestured toward the hills.

“…most of the ones operating in this region pass through Ihin.”

I stared.

“So the assassins trying to kill us are basically shopping there.”

“More or less.”

“Charming place.”

Leyra nodded.

“No meaningful local authority.”

“Bandits?”

“Yes.”

“Mercenaries?”

“Yes.”

“Smugglers?”

“Yes.”

“Assassins?”

“A lot.”

I smiled.

“Tourism board must be proud.”

Leyra's lips curved.

“If the nobles hired enough people…”

She looked toward the hills.

“…many of them may be waiting there.”

I crossed my arms.

“So we're fighting an entire town.”

“Possibly.”

She said that much too calmly.

Then she added, “There is another option.”

I looked at her.

“We can detour.”

“Safer road?”

“Longer.”

“How much longer?”

“Enough to matter.”

I considered it.

Leyra watched me.

Then her smile changed.

I knew that smile.

Challenge.

Deliberate.

Her eyes narrowed playfully.

“Unless…”

I sighed.

“Don't.”

“…you're afraid of them.”

There it was.

Cheap.

Effective.

Terrible.

I pointed at her.

“You are becoming dangerously good at manipulating me.”

Leyra smiled sweetly.

“Am I?”

“You know exactly what you're doing.”

“Perhaps.”

I stared at the hills.

Lawless town.

Probably full of hired killers.

Probably an obvious trap.

Probably the least responsible route available.

Then I looked at Leyra.

She was waiting.

Smirking.

I sighed.

“Fine.”

Her eyebrow rose.

“We fight the entire town.”

Leyra laughed.

Victory achieved.

We returned to the carriage.

The knights cleared the remains of the barricade while the wounded were checked and the road made passable again.

Leyra climbed inside first.

Still wearing the Merciless Lioness outfit.

No mask.

No attempt to hide.

I followed and sat opposite her.

The carriage started moving.

Toward Ihin.

I looked at Leyra.

She rested against the seat with one leg crossed over the other, looking entirely comfortable in the dark combat gear she had hidden for so long.

No nervous glance toward the knights.

No concern about who had seen her.

No careful effort to become the delicate princess again.

She had fought.

Openly.

Enjoyed it.

And now she wasn't hiding.

Seeing her like this again felt good.

Not because of the outfit.

Well.

Not only because of the outfit.

Because for once, Leyra was simply letting herself be Leyra.

And watching her enjoy every second of that freedom was surprisingly enjoyable too.