Reborn as the Psycho Villainess Who Ate Her Slave Beasts' Contracts-Chapter 141 --

The Emperor stared at Elara, lost in a whirlwind of denial, his mouth working silently. "No... no, no, no..." he muttered frantically, hands trembling at his sides as the dark frost flickered erratically around his clenched fists. "That can’t be right. If that’s true, then everything—"

Elara sneered, her voice cutting through his panic like a blade. "Congratulations, Father. You were cuckolded—twice."

His head snapped toward her, eyes blazing with pure hatred. "You dare?"

"Wait." Elara tilted her head slightly, expression flat. "Are you actually an idiot? Do you really think I uncovered all this through investigation alone?" She paused, letting the words sink in. "Really, Father—if I were in your place, I would’ve burned the palace where my mother left me. What kind of fool leaves such obvious evidence alive?"

Confusion twisted his features, though a smug smile crept across his face. His hand remained raised, mana coiling around it like smoke. "Lies from a cornered—"

Elara reached into her sleeve and pulled out a tiny marble, no larger than a pea, its surface swirling with faint trapped light. She tossed it casually to the ground between them.

"Here. Mother left you a gift."

The marble shattered on impact.

Light erupted—brilliant, blinding—expanding into a massive holographic projection that filled the entire hall. Gasps rippled through the room. Knights shifted. Even Rony took an involuntary step back.

The image solidified.

Elara’s mother appeared, fierce and unyielding, staring directly at the Emperor as if she could see through time itself. She raised her middle finger high.

"Fuck you, you idiot."

Even Elara’s eyes widened slightly at the raw vulgarity, though her expression remained controlled. Behind her, she heard someone choke—probably Rony. Duke Romian’s face had gone completely ashen.

The projection shifted.

Elara’s mother turned, her gaze softening for just a moment as she approached a portrait hanging in the background—Consort Mai’s portrait. She bent down slowly, deliberately, and pressed a tender kiss to the painted lips. The kiss lingered, full of unmistakable love and longing.

The Emperor staggered backward as if physically struck, all color draining from his face.

"You... you..." His voice came out strangled.

Elara’s mother pulled back from the portrait and whirled to face the Emperor again, her expression hardening into something cold and vicious.

"You damn bastard," she said, voice sharp enough to cut stone. "Second gift for you, you idiot—Elara isn’t your child. She’s fourth prince and Mei’s. Forged by magic. Our daughter."

She stepped closer to the projection’s edge, as if trying to reach through it.

"I’ve never seen such an obvious fool. Didn’t you ever notice that Mai’s name and mine sound strange together? How similar they are?" Her laugh was bitter, mocking. "Of course it’s because I took her name—the way lovers do."

The Emperor’s mind visibly raced, piecing together fragments too late. His lips moved soundlessly.

"The day you let me give birth," Elara’s mother continued, voice rising, "you should have killed me too. Not because I’d tell your secrets—no. It’s because if I survive, your Blackwood empire dies. You die."

Her eyes shifted, locking onto Duke Romian, who shrank back like a kicked dog.

"And that Duke house you’re standing in now? Old man—you pest. You were about to raise your hand and destroy everything with your magic, weren’t you? Go to hell with it, you dumb bastard." Her voice dripped with contempt. "Stealing magic from your own children, killing them, sucking them dry—did you really think you could touch my daughter?"

She looked directly at Duke Romian now, and the old man’s knees buckled.

"You killed your own wife. Sacrificed her to the Emperor just because you wanted power. Your daughter only survived because your wife had poured all her magic into her completely. Oh—you didn’t tell my daughter that either, did you?"

The projection panned slightly, revealing a window in the background. Through it, a full moon glowed—golden, massive, identical to the one hanging outside the real hall at that very moment.

"Well, if I’m not wrong," Elara’s mother said softly, dangerously, "today is a full moon. Just like this one."

She looked back at the Emperor, at Rony, at Duke Romian.

"Do you know what I’m doing right now? If I wanted, I could kill you. But no." Her smile was cold, terrible. "I’m going to make you regret being born, you damn bastard."

She stomped her foot against the ground in the projection.

Light surged upward, coiling around her like living serpents—bright, violent, unstoppable.

"Do you know what this is?" she asked, voice echoing. "It’s called the Deadly Seed. You know what that is, don’t you?"

She spread her arms wide.

"Welcome to hell."

The projection flickered and vanished.

For one heartbeat, silence reigned.

Then the floor trembled.

Faint runes began glowing through cracks in the stone—ancient, intricate patterns that had been invisible moments before. The light spread like veins through the entire hall, pulsing in rhythm with the golden moonlight streaming through the high windows.

The temperature dropped.

Black vines erupted from the floor—thorned, writhing, hungry. They moved with terrifying purpose, drawn toward the Emperor’s corrupted mana like iron to a magnet. Where they touched the frost he’d summoned, it shattered, dissolving into nothing.

The Emperor screamed, stumbling backward. His mana flared wildly, trying to defend, but the vines multiplied faster than he could destroy them. They wrapped around his legs, his arms, drinking in his stolen power.

Rony backed toward the door, face white with terror. This wasn’t a confrontation anymore.

This was a tomb.

Sera dropped her dagger, hands shaking. The First Consort stepped forward instead, her smile lethal, as Ileana drew her blade with a sharp ring of steel. Dimrti raised her bow again, arrows already nocked.

The hall had transformed from throne room to execution ground in the space of a breath.

Elara rose from her chair slowly, sword still gleaming in her hand, moonlight sliding along its perfect edge. She looked at her father—at the Emperor who had murdered her mother, stolen a prince’s magic, built an empire on corpses and lies.

She felt nothing.

Only the cold certainty of a plan finally, perfectly, falling into place.

"Now," she said quietly, voice cutting through the chaos, "we can finish this properly."

The Emperor stood frozen, but not from sadness or shock—no, pure rage burned through him like wildfire. His eyes went completely black as he glared at Elara, voice dropping low and dangerous. "You brought beast knights here thinking you could make me lose? You fool. I’m still the Emperor. So what about these beast knights or whatever trash you dragged in? After tonight, no one will remember you. I’ll kill all three of you and burn this house to ashes. Tomorrow, I’ll tell everyone you committed suicide. Simple."

Elara just stared at him, face blank.

He threw his head back and laughed, loud and mocking. "Really? Here I thought after all this big talk, you’d have some brilliant plan. But what did you bring? Five weak administrators you dug up from God knows what trash heap? And beast knights?" He sneered. "You’re facing royalty with beast knights? You think they can even touch me?"

His voice cracked like a whip. "All of you—point your swords at the First Consort. Now!"

Nothing.

The beast knights didn’t move. Not one muscle.

The Emperor’s face went red. He raised his hand, dark magic crackling. "I said, all of you—point your swords at the First Consort! That’s an order!"

Still nothing. They stood there like statues, ears twitching but bodies locked in place.

His fury exploded. "What the hell is this?! Beast knights are property of Blackwood royal blood! You follow my orders without question—even if I tell you to jump into fire! This doesn’t make any sense!"

Elara tilted her head slightly, expression cold. Then Ileana stepped forward with a small smile and snapped her fingers.

Every beast knight in the room turned smoothly—but toward her, not the Emperor.

Ileana’s voice was light, almost amused. "Your magic only works if you’re not standing inside this circle right now. And yes, beast knights follow royal blood. Yes, they can’t raise their swords against royalty—and royalty can’t be harmed by them directly. But who said we were going to use beast knights to kill you?"

She gestured lazily at the knights. "Third point: yes, beast knights follow orders blindly. They killed my mother on command once. But do you really think I came unprepared this time?"

One of the beast knights shifted, tilting his head so the moonlight caught something small and metallic tucked in his ear.

Ileana pointed. "Look closely. Magical earpieces. Custom-made. You think my mother spent all those years just cutting flowers in the garden?"

Parmilda—the First Consort—spoke from behind, her voice calm and cutting. "Come on, Your Majesty. Did you really think I was just sitting around waiting for someone to rescue me?"

The Emperor snarled, veins bulging in his neck. "You? You think some little garden trick can override my command?!"