The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven Chapter 652: Wanda’s End (II)

When Wanda drew near, Meredith’s eyes darted down to the weaponry clutched in her grip. "Excellent pick," she remarked with composure.

A servant moved forward at that moment, and Meredith accepted the sword. She unsheathed it in one fluid motion, the edge shimmering menacingly under the illumination.

Observing the blade, Wanda offered a cynical grin. Her gaze swept over Meredith’s formal attire once more. A queen draped in a banquet gown, brandishing naught but a single sword.

The odds were stacked against her.

Wanda was on the verge of laughter. In her assessment, Meredith had foolishly handicapped herself, a blunder that played right into her hands.

She intended to show the Queen what it truly felt like to face a genuine warrior. Yet, as a sudden realization dawned on her, Wanda’s expression grew severe.

"You possess fae abilities," she remarked pointedly. "Would that not render this combat somewhat unfair?"

Meredith’s gaze remained unwavering. "I shall refrain from utilizing them."

Wanda squinted at her, prompting Meredith to tilt her chin upward. "I offer my oath to the Moon Goddess."

A heavy silence descended between them for a few heartbeats. Then, bit by bit, a satisfied smirk played upon Wanda’s lips.

"Very well," she replied languidly. "That appears equitable enough."

But as confidence surged back into her features, Meredith abruptly interjected, "And who told you this was a friendly duel?"

Wanda blinked in bewilderment. "What?"

Meredith’s tone grew frigid, as piercing as the steel in her hand. "This isn't a duel." Her gaze darkened significantly. "This is a fight to the death."

The smirk evaporated from Wanda’s face instantly.

Meredith’s declaration resonated coldly throughout the clearing. For several moments, neither woman stirred.

Two warriors suddenly emerged, carrying a plain wooden coffin between them.

The abrasive sound of timber scraping against the earth was jarringly loud as they positioned it at the perimeter of the training ground.

Wanda’s eyes locked onto the box, and her throat tightened with a sudden tremor. Only then did the reality of the situation dawn on her. Meredith hadn’t summoned her to deliver a mere threat; she had brought her there to ensure her burial.

"Engage," Meredith stated evenly.

Wanda made the first move. With a fierce snarl, she lunged forward, her weapon arcing toward Meredith’s shoulder.

The ring of clashing steel reverberated through the night air.

Meredith shifted with terrifying accuracy. With one effortless step and a subtle pivots of her body, her blade sliced across Wanda’s arm before the warrior could even react. A crimson line manifested instantly.

"What—" Wanda gasped, staggering backward. She hadn't even caught the motion of the strike.

Meredith advanced in a slow, controlled manner. Every movement was exact and deliberate. Wanda struck out once more, her agitation intensifying.

Her attacks were rapid—she had long held a reputation as one of Stormveil’s most formidable female fighters. Nevertheless, Meredith was faster.

Every time Wanda swung, Meredith deflected the blow without breaking a sweat. And every time Meredith moved her sword, another laceration appeared on Wanda’s arms, shoulders, or thighs.

Though the wounds were neither deep nor fatal, they were sufficient to draw blood and cause stinging pain.

Soon, the progression of the fight became dreadfully apparent. Meredith was not hurrying; she was systematically dismantling her opponent piece by piece.

Wanda’s respiration grew labored. "Stand still!" she bellowed in fury, launching herself forward again.

Meredith’s blade flickered, and she landed another clean cut. This time, Wanda let out a sharp cry as a burst of agony crippled her leg, sending her stumbling.

"You—"

Before she could regain her balance, Meredith struck again—a surgically precise slice. Wanda’s grip failed, and her weapon clattered to the dirt.

Panic flooded her veins. She spun around to flee, but two guards blocked her path instantly, their weapons leveled at her.

"Return to the circle." Their voices were devoid of emotion.

With a heaving chest, Wanda turned back to face Meredith. The Queen hadn't budged. She stood exactly where she had started, her expression detached and merciless.

"You don’t get to run," Meredith murmured.

Wanda retrieved her weapon, her frame shaking, and the brawl recommenced. However, dread now permeated her strikes, while Meredith remained entirely composed.

Another slash, another pinpoint strike, and Wanda’s agility waned. Eventually, her weapon slipped entirely from her fingers, and she collapsed to one knee.

Her limbs trembled from the agony and exhaustion. At last, she looked up at Meredith, her eyes wild with panic.

"Why?" she croaked. "Why are you so determined to kill me?"

Meredith lowered her sword a fraction. For the first time, her eyes burned with undisguised hatred. "You want to know the reason?"

Wanda glared back at her. "Indeed!"

Stepping closer, Meredith lowered her voice to a whisper. "You sneaked into the room after we departed."

Wanda’s complexion paled briefly, her lips parting in dismay.

"You assumed your actions would remain a secret. You stole that which belonged to my mate."

Shock flickered across Wanda’s features.

"And after all of that," Meredith continued with chilling detachment, "you continue to crawl into your brother’s bed." The accusation struck with the force of a thunderclap.

Wanda froze, her eyes widening in sheer terror. "You—" For a second, the words failed her.

Meredith offered a faint, thin smile. "Offer an apology."

Wanda stared in disbelief at the demand. "What?"

"Apologize," Meredith repeated evenly. "And perhaps I shall permit your kin to receive what remains of you with a sense of dignity."

Wanda’s eyes ignited with fury. "I have done nothing wrong!"

Meredith’s smile vanished, and she swung her blade once more.

"Arrggh!" A gut-wrenching scream tore from Wanda’s throat as the steel severed her left hand.

She dropped to the earth, squirming in agony, her severed hand lying in the sand nearby.

"You—bitch!" she shrieked hysterically.

Meredith chuckled softly. "Still refusing to offer that apology?"

"Go to hell!"

Meredith tilted her head. "At the very least, you will be arriving there first."

Wanda’s breathing became jagged as a fresh wave of terror took hold. "You think killing me will save you?" she hissed. "When the truth is revealed, you won’t last as Queen! My father will annihilate you!"

Meredith scoffed. "The council would eagerly condemn your entire house if they were to discover your sins." Her voice turned glacial as she began cataloging her crimes.

"Stealing from the royal bloodline."

"Engaging in incest with your own brother."

Wanda’s face lost all color. "You possess no proof of these claims," she asserted, her expression twisting into a mask of forced arrogance.

The return of Meredith’s smile was chilling. "Oh, have no fear." She raised her sword high. "Your spirit will be able to watch as I prove every single detail."

Wanda’s shriek echoed through the night.

The final blow was swift and absolute, bisecting her body vertically. As the blade completed its path, silence descended. The training yard fell into total stillness.

Wanda Fellowes lay in two pieces, motionless upon the ground.

Meredith stood over the corpse for several moments, her lungs expanding slowly as the last remnants of rage faded from her focus.

She turned toward the guards. "Place her in the coffin," she ordered calmly. "See that it is delivered to the Fellowes estate at the break of dawn."

The guards bowed low. "At once, Your Majesty."

Meredith released her sword, the weapon striking the ground with a dull clang. Xamira approached silently and handed her a thick, damp cloth. She accepted it and wiped the blood from her skin.

Her mien had regained its characteristic tranquility, yet the storm still brewing in her eyes had not abated.

Tonight, she had finally satisfied the requirements of long-overdue justice.