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Chapter 158: Patricia's Tragic History

The room fell silent.

The glow of the God Sphere dimmed, its revelations pressing down on everyone like a heavy weight.

Safari stood motionless.

His fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white.
His body trembled—not with fear.

But with rage.
With hatred.
With disgust.

Everyone was watching him.

Zack, Jen, Olive, Patrick, Grace… even Ian, for once, didn’t raise his camera.

Angeleva gripped Safari’s arm, worried, but silent.

Safari finally spoke.

His voice was low. Dangerous.

“So… all this time.”

“He wasn’t just some power-hungry maniac.”

“He actually thinks he’s carrying out some twisted legacy?”

His teeth ground together.

“He actually believes he’s restoring Sappy’s pride?”

His eyes burned.

“And to do it, he tortured people? He killed my sister? He turned me into his toy?!”

Safari’s fury exploded.

His aura flared, rattling the chamber walls.

Legend watched closely. This was Safari’s moment of truth.

Safari drew in a long breath… and slowly exhaled.

His body eased, but his resolve did not.

He raised his head and locked eyes with Legend.

“I don’t care about his past. I don’t care if he was a child when it began. What he did to me—what he did to my sister—what he’s done to countless others…”

Safari’s voice was cold. Absolute.

“He will answer for all of it.”

The God Sphere pulsed again. Its glow shifted, soft yet ominous.

Everyone turned.

Angeleva tensed.

Safari, though still burning with fury, fell quiet.

This time, it was her turn.

Patricia’s past would be revealed.

The vision unfolded.

Planet Angelica—yet not the one Angeleva knew. This was memory. This was tragedy.

A small fairy girl—Patricia, no older than five—danced through wildflowers, laughing with wide, innocent eyes. She was shy, gentle, curious.

But all that light was wrapped in a shadow.

A curse.

Legend’s voice echoed as the scene played out:

“Patricia was born of a cursed bloodline—one that once ruled Angelica with poison and fear. Her grandmother, Queen Morrivelle, committed unspeakable acts. Experiments. Torment. Chains. Death. She hid her cruelty behind elegance, until she was finally exposed and executed by her own people.”

The vision shifted. Fairies stormed Morrivelle’s chambers, uncovering piles of corpses and potions. A swift execution. The entire bloodline purged.

All but one.

Patricia’s father.

He fled with his wife and infant daughter, vanishing into the shadows.

They survived in the forgotten corners of Angelica, where whispers replaced hope.

For years, they hid. Because discovery meant death.

But Patricia… she was different.

She didn’t want to hide.
She didn’t want to run.

She believed in something greater—
that forgiveness was possible.
That fairies would one day accept them again.

She trained. She grew.
Her powers blossomed faster than anyone her age.

She was gifted in healing. Potions. Miracles.

And she believed those gifts would prove she belonged.

But her parents knew the truth.

Angelica’s justice had no mercy.

They saw how others spoke of them. How hated they were.

Still, they couldn’t keep running.

They made a choice.

“Patricia,” her father said, gripping her shoulders.
“If they reject us… if they refuse to listen… you must survive. Take our bloodline’s gift. Learn poison. It is our last defense.”

She obeyed.
She learned.
She still clung to hope.

And at last, disguised, her parents walked toward the castle of Angelica’s rulers—the new monarchs of the golden era.

But before they reached its gates, they were stopped.

A group of fairies.

Fairies who hated them. Who saw only monsters.

Their disguises ripped away.

The streets erupted in rage.

Patricia was ten.

She watched her parents drop to their knees, begging.

“We are not our ancestors!” her father pleaded.
“Please—listen to us! We only want peace!”

But no one listened.

They saw only the curse. Only the bloodline.

And when her parents were dragged away, the low-class fairies—the servants, the guards—laughed as they beat them, mocked them, tortured them.

Still, her parents refused to fight back.

Something in Patricia shattered.

This is mercy? This is justice?

No.

Peace was a lie.

Her grandmother had been right all along.

When her parents took their last breath, the mob turned on her.

“She is cursed.”
“She must die too.”

Spears. Arrows. Blades.

They charged.

But before they struck—

Patricia moved.

Cold. Precise. Deadly.

Her arrows cut them down. One by one.

Not poison. Not potions.

Her bow.

Her fury.

And when it was over, she felt no regret.

Only satisfaction.
Only justice.
Only power.

For three days, she wandered alone.

Until a man found her.

A fairy with golden wings.

King Xavier. Angeleva’s father.

He fed her. Sheltered her. Adopted her.

To Patricia, it was perfect.

A new life. A new family.

But then she saw them.

The servants. The low-class.

Respected. Protected.

Given kindness. Given mercy.

She hated them.

To her, they were vermin.

And whenever she could, she made them suffer.

She grew closer to power.

She acted kind. Pure. Loving.

She became a sister to Angeleva.
She gained worship. Trust.

But inside…

“The throne is mine. Grandmother’s vision is truth. Only strength matters. Kindness is weakness.”

Her contempt for Xavier and Fiona grew. Their mercy was a disease.

“If this were Grandmother’s reign, they would all kneel.”

So she plotted.

She crafted a masterpiece of poison—slow, untraceable, unstoppable.

Then the night came.

A toast to the future.

A goblet of golden nectar, offered by a loving daughter.

Xavier drank.

His body began to rot—slowly, day by day. The kingdom thought it was illness.

No one suspected.

Except Fiona.

The queen had always watched Patricia closely. Rumors. Whispers. Missing servants. A cruel glint in her eyes.

And then she traced the poison back to its source.

Straight to Patricia.

The truth was revealed.

Fiona gathered witnesses—the servants Patricia had tormented for years. Together, they dragged Patricia before the court.

Her crimes laid bare.

But Patricia only smiled.

She refused to kneel. Refused to beg.

And before judgment fell, she struck one final blow.

A flick of her finger. A pin prick.

Fiona brushed it off. But the poison had already bloomed.

Patricia was thrown into prison. Stripped of her titles. Her future.

But she was patient.

Because she knew—Fiona would soon collapse.

And when the queen died days later, Patricia laughed in her cell.

Her revenge had already begun.

Years passed.

Patricia rotted.

But what cut deeper than chains… was the laughter.

The low-class fairies mocked her daily.

“The great Patricia, reduced to nothing!”
“Where is your pride now, murderer?”

Every word sharpened her hatred.

“Weaklings. Vermin. You’d all be dead without me. And still you dare mock me.”

She swore—if she ever escaped—she would never be weak again.

And then, the sky burned.

The day Angelica fell.

Explosions tore through the planet. Cities crumbled. Screams filled the air.

The same fairies who mocked her now begged for life.

Patricia?

She laughed.

“So this is your justice? This is your purity?”

Her prison cracked. She welcomed death.

Until a shadow fell across her.

Gregory.

The conqueror.

He looked at her and smirked.

“Finally found you. You’ve been through hell, haven’t you?”

She smirked back, broken but unyielding.

“You have no idea.”

With one swing of his mace, he shattered her chains.

And with one hand, he offered her freedom.

“Come with me. Serve someone truly powerful.”

She didn’t hesitate.

She stepped over the bodies of the fairies who once mocked her.

She didn’t look back.

As Angelica crumbled into ruin, she escaped with Gregory.

And in that moment, she swore:

She would never be weak again.

She would dominate.

And as one of Raven’s Elites—

She would make sure the weak suffered.

Forever.