SSS-Grade Acceleration Talent made me Fastest Lord of Apocalypse
Chapter 105: return

Chapter 105: return

Meanwhile, back at the Harrier Family castle...

Niomi stood alone on the high balcony, her eyes fixed on the distant eastern horizon—the direction of the Blue Hammer Kingdom. The wind played gently with the hem of her dress, but her grip held it tight, knuckles pale with tension.

"They would have already reached Dreamy Sky City by now," she thought, anxiety curling through her like a cold vine.

Her heart thudded softly, uncertainly, as she fought to silence the storm of thoughts screaming in her mind.

"I wonder how he’s doing."

But her imagination was cruel.

It painted pictures of broken walls, of Damien lying bloodied beneath a thousand spears, of his flame snuffed out by overwhelming force.

Like a devil, her mind spun worst-case scenarios until they tangled around her chest, making it hard to breathe.

Just then, footsteps echoed through the corridor behind her.

She turned.

Devrok emerged, walking slowly, sword in hand. His clothes clung to him, drenched in sweat and grime. Each step was heavy, yet precise. His expression unreadable. Exhaustion clung to him like a second skin—but beneath it, his aura had never been sharper.

He looked like a blade that had finally been unsheathed after years of slumber—weathered, scarred, but dangerously ready.

Devrok, watching from nearby, caught the haunted look in Niomi’s eyes. Her worry wasn’t hidden; it clung to her face like the haze before a storm.

And though he too was deeply concerned about Damien’s safety, he couldn’t bear to see her like this.

He stepped closer, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Don’t worry, sister-in-law," he said gently. "Just believe in him. If he wasn’t certain, he wouldn’t have taken this step."

His voice was calm, yet firm—an anchor in the whirlwind.

Niomi slowly turned to him, her expression softening. His words didn’t erase her fear, but they dulled the edge. She gave a small, grateful nod.

Because Devrok was right.

Damien had changed.

His moods, once volatile and uncertain, had been replaced by purpose. His actions no longer carried hesitation—they inspired confidence. Even when silent, he made others believe the impossible.

And just as those thoughts settled, a sudden sharp whistling cut through the air above them.

Niomi instinctively tensed.

But Devrok’s eyes lit up with recognition. He knew that sound.

In one smooth motion, he raised his arm like a perch—steady, confident.

A shadow passed overhead.

Then with a rush of feathers and wind, a bird descended and landed gracefully on his outstretched hand.

Its talons clinked against his gauntlet, and tied to its leg—

a message scroll.

For a moment, even Niomi looked surprised. Her lips parted slightly, and she murmured without thinking:

"Letter from mother-in-law."

The bird perched calmly on Devrok’s arm, its feathers pristine and posture regal.

Niomi instantly recognized it—her mother-in-law’s personal messenger falcon, used only for urgent communication whenever she was away from the castle.

That realization sent a ripple of emotion through her.

"Don’t tell me she’s returning," Devrok muttered, already reaching for the small bronze cylinder tied to the bird’s leg.

With practiced hands, he uncorked the seal and carefully drew out the message—a tightly wound slip of parchment no larger than his palm.

The moment it was fully exposed to the air, it reacted.

FWOOOSH.

A burst of blue flames consumed the message, burning away the paper in a flash of smoke—but not before a single line of text floated in glowing runes before fading into the wind.

"I’m coming back."

The message was brief.

But it was enough.

The queen—his mother—was finally returning.

A wave of quiet relief washed over Devrok. His breath eased. His shoulders loosened, the tension he hadn’t even realized he was carrying now melting away.

She was alive.

And if she was returning now, of all times, it could only mean one thing—

she had succeeded.

Had she truly gathered allies? Reinforcements? Perhaps hidden powers long dormant?

The question lingered, unanswered—but not for long.

---

Several hours later...

The streets of Valthron City stirred with activity as a grand carriage thundered through its stone-paved roads.

Drawn by four massive warhorses clad in ornate armor, the carriage bore the unmistakable crest of the Harrier Family on both sides—a pair of wings over a broken crown, carved in silver and gleaming beneath the early moonlight.

City guards stood at attention. Civilians paused, whispering in awe. Even the air itself felt heavier, as if it sensed the return of something regal... something formidable.

The carriage slowed near the Harrier estate, its wheels smooth as silk despite the speed. Then—

The curtains parted.

And through that narrow slit, a pair of eyes emerged.

Sharp. Icy. Unforgiving.

Eyes like crystal blades, polished and deadly. The kind that missed nothing.

Her gaze swept over the city she had once ruled in silence, piercing straight through buildings, people, and secrets alike. Her long, flowing blue hair cascaded past her shoulders like a frozen waterfall, its color so vivid it seemed to blend with the night sky.

She didn’t need an announcement.

Her presence alone commanded the world around her.

The queen had returned.

This woman was none other than Violet von Harrier, the Queen of the Valthorn Kingdom—mother to Damien and Devrok, wife of the former king Roosevelt Harrier, and above all, a masterful diplomat whose elegance was matched only by her precision.

It was Violet who had, over the years, quietly shaped the kingdom’s standing in the world.

Treaty by treaty, deal by deal, alliance by alliance—she had penned the future of Valthorn with the stroke of her quill.

Now, as her carriage passed through the capital streets, her eyes—those sharp, discerning eyes—took in everything.

Her gaze swept over the roads, the buildings, the people.

Her brow lifted slightly.

Even through the thin veil of her carriage window, she could sense it—a change.

The tension that once hung heavy in the air was gone.

The guards weren’t stiff with unease. The merchants weren’t glancing over their shoulders. The common folk... were smiling.

Openly. Freely. With a lightness in their step that hadn’t existed the last time she walked these streets.

As someone who had made a career out of reading people, Violet felt it immediately.

Something had shifted.

And that made her frown tighten.

Was it a trap? A façade?

Had someone else taken control of the city in her absence? Was the air of peace nothing but the calm before a storm?

But before her thoughts could spiral further, the carriage rolled to a gentle halt in front of the Harrier Castle gates.

She leaned forward.

And then her eyes softened.

Two figures stood waiting outside the main entrance, bathed in the warm glow of lantern light.

Devrok and Niomi.

Her son. Her daughter-in-law.

Safe. Alive. Whole.

Her tension melted away.

A quiet, relieved smile curved her lips as she pushed the curtain aside fully and stepped out, the wind catching the hem of her cloak and her hair like a banner unfurling in the night.

The queen had returned home.

However, the smile vanished from Violet’s face as swiftly as it had appeared.

Her sharp eyes scanned the area again, this time with intent.

But something was missing.

No—someone.

Not one, but three people she had expected to greet her were absent.

Her husband, Roosevelt Harrier.

Her second born, Damien.

And the loyal strategist, Ramon.

They were nowhere to be seen.

A chill crept beneath the warmth of the lantern light.

Wordlessly, she adjusted the folds of her long royal gown as her personal maid stepped forward and assisted her down from the carriage.

The moment her feet touched the ground, the palace guards struck their fists to their chests in unison, their voices ringing out through the night air:

"Welcome back, Queen!"

"Long live the Queen!"

"Long live the Valthorn Kingdom!"

But Violet barely spared them a glance.

Her eyes remained fixed on Devrok and Niomi, her expression unreadable.

Then came the question.

"Where are Damien and Roosevelt?"

The tone wasn’t panicked. It was calm—too calm—laced with the edge of someone who was already preparing herself for a bitter answer.

Devrok stiffened slightly. Beside him, Niomi’s fingers curled tightly into her cloak.

Neither of them answered at first.

But the forced smiles they wore told Violet everything she needed to know.

Her frown deepened like a crack running through marble.

"Devrok," she said, her voice sharp now, cutting through the silence.

"Tell me everything I need to know. Now."

There was no room for evasion.

Devrok closed his eyes briefly, then exhaled a long, heavy breath—as if the weight of his next words could crush him. He gestured toward the castle with a tilt of his head.

"Come with me. This isn’t something we should discuss out here."

He had no intention of revealing the full truth in the open air, under the watchful eyes of guards and servants. Not this truth.

And Violet, ever the composed diplomat, understood the unspoken implication immediately.

Without another word, she turned and followed him, her gown trailing behind her like a shadow as they made their way toward the heart of the Harrier estate—

where secrets waited to be revealed.