Wanting to Surpass the MC with the Greatest Harem.
Chapter 37: Betrayal (2)

Chapter 37: Betrayal (2)

The old chamber was now visible under the rays of the sun. Time had not been kind to it. Moss crept along the broken edges of the walls, beams cracked and leaning under the sun. Dust floated lazily in golden shafts of sunlight that peeked through the crumbled ceiling. But none of that mattered now.

The mess inside was undeniable.

The scorched remains of the Lekar, its massive body still smoldering under the sun’s touch, lay sprawled across the stone floor like a twisted, broken idol. Smoke curled gently off the carcass, forming a light fog within the chamber, adding to the haunting stillness of the moment.

At the center of it all sat Lady Fares.

She was motionless, perched in a wooden chair that looked too fragile for its occupant. Her right hand was unconsciously placed under her jaw, her elbow braced against the armrest. She stared blankly into the distance, eyes wide with thoughts she couldn’t yet gather.

The silence felt oppressive.

Dominic’s words echoed in her head, pounding over and over like the ringing of a bell after the last strike. Words that tore at the very foundation of what she believed.

"Then explain how the Stolks got into the inner city so fast and no one could detect their arrival until they were too close."

That voice... that accusatory tone...

Damn it all. That actually made some sense.

She had replayed that moment a thousand times in her head already. She had seen the look in Dominic’s eyes, the conviction, the fury, the hurt. She had seen that same kind of look before — in warriors who’d lost their comrades, in brothers betrayed by those they trusted. That wasn’t mere suspicion. That was belief.

And the worst part? She had no good explanation.

The Stolks had gotten in too easily. They bypassed all the known city barriers, skipped past the sentry zones. There had been no raised alarms until it was too late. How had she missed it? How had none of them seen it for what it was?

Suddenly, a familiar voice broke the stillness, silken and cold.

"Fares."

Lady Fares turned slowly.

There she was. General Coris.

Clad in her elegant obsidian battle uniform, her presence still commanded awe. Her dark hair was pulled tightly into a high bun, her silver eyes glinting under the light like sharpened steel. She looked calm, controlled. Almost... detached.

Fares rose to her feet slowly, her hand falling away from her jaw. Her expression hardened.

"You finally came," she said, her voice low but edged with fire. "I was wondering how long you’d wait."

Coris stepped into the chamber, her boots echoing against the cold stone. Her eyes flickered briefly to the Lekar’s corpse, then back to Fares.

"You’ve been busy," Coris said coolly.

Fares folded her arms, taking a step forward. "I could say the same about you."

Coris raised a brow. "Is that so?"

"Don’t play stupid with me, Coris." Fares’ voice was sharp now, cutting through the thick silence. "The Stolks. Their surprise entry. Their precision. Their timing. Don’t insult my intelligence."

Coris said nothing.

Fares advanced. "You were the only one with access to both the city defenses and the patrol rotations. Only you could have known when our guard was lowest. Only you could’ve orchestrated that chaos."

Still, Coris was silent. Her expression unreadable.

Fares stopped barely a foot from her. Her voice was a whisper now, raw with pain. "Why, Coris? Why would you betray us? Me?"

There was a pause. A heartbeat. Then two.

Coris stared at her, and something flickered in her gaze. Was it guilt? Regret? Or was it nothing more than cold calculation?

She stepped back.

"You’re asking the wrong questions, Fares."

Fares’ eyes widened slightly. "Wrong—? What the hell does that mean?"

Coris didn’t answer. She simply turned her head slightly, as if listening to something distant. A faint vibration trembled beneath their feet.

Then the sound came. A rumbling, low and steady, like a storm building beneath the ground.

Fares turned sharply toward the entrance of the chamber, eyes narrowing. "What now?"

From the shadows of the corridor beyond, they emerged.

One by one.

Iron Fisted Monkeys.

Ten of them.

Their metallic arms gleamed in the dim light, massive shoulders hunched, faces twisted with rage and hunger. Their feet slammed into the stone with thunderous force, each step sending tiny tremors through the ground.

Lady Fares’ body shifted into a combat stance. Her aura flared — pale blue energy rising like a tide from her feet.

She glanced back at Coris.

"This is your answer? You brought them here? You really are trying to kill me."

Coris tilted her head slightly, no emotion in her face.

"Consider it... a test."

"A test?"

The Iron Fisted Monkeys began circling, clawed fists flexing with anticipation. Their heavy breathing filled the space like a monstrous choir.

"You always said you were strong, Fares," Coris said quietly, almost wistfully. "Let’s see if you still are."

Fares clenched her fists, her eyes flashing. "I won’t die here. And I won’t let you walk away from this."

Coris turned and walked to the shadows. As she disappeared into the corridor, her voice echoed behind her.

"Tch. Dominic was right about you."she muttered.

Lady Fares didn’t move. Not yet. Her breathing slowed. She dropped into a lower stance, aura pulsing.

She was alone.

Surrounded.

Betrayed.

And furious.

She stared at the ten Iron Fisted Monkeys, heart thundering, fire rising in her chest. They thought she was weak. They thought she’d fall like the others. Her power surged.

The Iron Fisted Monkeys let out low, guttural growls as they stepped into the chamber. Their eyes glowed with a sickly yellow hue, and their iron-covered limbs clanked menacingly with each movement. Ten of them. Ten. More than enough to tear a whole unit of trained Ghost warriors to shreds.

Lady Fares stood from the chair slowly, her eyes narrowing as her hand slipped behind her back, where the shadow veil began to flicker like smoke clinging to her skin. She could feel the cold embrace of her magic pulsing at her fingertips, coiling and shifting like a serpent ready to strike.

"So this is how it’s going to be," she muttered to herself, stepping slowly away from the chair as the ten Iron Fisted Monkeys surrounded her.

The old chamber was dim but shafts of sunlight broke through the cracked ceiling. Where the sun touched, the shadows recoiled. Where it didn’t, Lady Fares moved freely, her presence merging with the dark.

The first Iron Fisted Monkey lunged, its iron fist cutting the air like a hammer. But it struck nothing.

Lady Fares was gone.

She slipped through the shadow beneath the chair and appeared behind the beast, her hand slicing forward. A sharp tendril of darkness erupted from her palm, slashing across its back. Sparks flew as the shadow magic collided with the creature’s armored spine.

It howled and turned—but again, she vanished.

One by one, the Monkeys charged. Fists slammed into stone, into shadow, into each other. But never into her.

She weaved between them like smoke, stepping through pools of darkness, reappearing behind one, beside another, above all of them.

She raised both hands. The shadows around her surged. Dark tendrils erupted from the ground, wrapping around the limbs of two Iron Fisted Monkeys, pulling them down.

With a flick of her wrist, she condensed the darkness into blades. Five. Six. Seven of them, floating in the air. Then she sent them flying.

The blades pierced one monkey through the chest. Another through the throat. Sparks flew again as the magical blades shattered parts of their armor and found weak flesh beneath.

Still, there were too many.

She ducked a swinging arm, slid through the floor’s shadows, and came up beneath one, releasing a wave of shadow energy that exploded upward. The monkey was sent hurtling into the ceiling, crashing into the stone with a crack.

Another came from the side. She twisted, her body breaking into swirling black mist, letting the punch pass through. Then she reformed mid-motion and drove her hand into its abdomen—shadow magic flaring—and tore out the creature’s core. It dropped.

She panted now. Sweat beaded on her brow.

Four down. Six to go.

They circled her, more cautious now. They had learned. She was not prey.

Lady Fares stood tall. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her eyes glowing faintly violet. "Come on, then," she whispered. "Let me show you what real darkness looks like."

The remaining Iron Fisted Monkeys roared as one and charged again.

And the shadows welcomed them, crushing their heads into nothing but debris of bones and dust.

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