My Maids are All Final Villainesses

Chapter 76: Scheme

The voices behind the crack did not fade after calling her.

Instead, they grew more urgent.

"Madam Maid, please wait."

Cerys paused, though she did not turn immediately. Her steps slowed just enough to show that she was still listening.

"What is it."

Her tone carried no warmth, only patience that was quickly running thin.

A Warchief spoke first, his voice measured, careful not to provoke her again.

"There is something we must clarify."

Another followed.

"The method we spoke of earlier... it is not as simple as it sounded."

Cerys finally turned her head slightly, her gaze resting on the crack once more.

"Explain."

The figures on the other side seemed relieved that she had not walked away entirely.

One of them stepped forward.

"The powder we mentioned..."

He paused briefly, choosing his words with care.

"It is not an ordinary substance."

Another voice continued.

"It can force beasts into a state of frenzy."

"It can awaken instincts far beyond their natural limits."

"It can push their bodies to grow at an abnormal rate."

"It can amplify aggression, hunger, and territorial dominance."

The explanation grew longer.

"When used in sufficient quantity, it can transform even a weak beast into something far more dangerous."

"But..."

The tone shifted.

"We do not have much of it here."

Cerys’s eyes narrowed slightly.

The Warchief continued.

"What we brought to this continent..."

He exhaled.

"It is only a small portion."

"Not concentrated."

"Not enough to create something truly overwhelming."

Another added.

"We used some of it already."

"To accelerate certain hunts."

"To test its effects."

"To observe its limits."

He shook his head.

"What remains is... insufficient."

Cerys remained silent for a moment.

Then she spoke.

"Does that mean there is more?"

The question was simple.

But the effect it had was immediate.

The figures beyond the crack exchanged looks.

Then the Shaman stepped forward.

His presence alone quieted the others.

"Yes."

His voice was low.

"There is more."

He lifted his staff slightly.

"And what you see here..."

He gestured toward the crack.

"...is only a fragment."

Cerys did not interrupt.

The Shaman continued, his voice carrying a faint trace of memory.

"That substance was not created here."

"It was not refined here."

"It did not originate in this land."

He looked at her directly.

"It came from our homeland."

His grip tightened on the staff.

"And obtaining it..."

He paused.

"...was not easy."

The Warchiefs around him grew quiet.

The Shaman’s voice deepened.

"We ventured into a forbidden region."

"A place where even seasoned warriors hesitate to step."

"A place where beasts are not merely strong... but monstrous."

His eyes darkened slightly.

"The air itself was hostile."

"The ground rejected our presence."

"The creatures there..."

He exhaled slowly.

"They were not like the ones here."

"They were older."

"Stronger."

"More aware."

His voice lowered further.

"They hunted us."

The younger members behind him stiffened.

The Shaman continued.

"We lost many."

"Warriors who had stood through countless battles..."

"Fell in moments."

He closed his eyes briefly.

"They did not even have time to activate their Berserk Mode."

Another Warchief spoke, his tone heavy.

"I remember it clearly."

He stepped forward.

"The first group entered confidently."

"They never returned."

"The second group went to retrieve them."

"They found only remains."

He clenched his jaw.

"Torn bodies."

"Broken weapons."

"Blood... everywhere."

His voice tightened.

"We realized then that this was not a place we could approach carelessly."

The Shaman nodded.

"So we changed our approach."

"We moved slower."

"We observed."

"We waited."

"We studied the patterns of the beasts."

"We avoided direct confrontation when possible."

"But even then..."

His voice softened slightly.

"We paid a price."

Another Warchief spoke.

"I barely made it out."

His eyes flickered.

"A creature... I still remember it."

"It had no clear form."

"It moved between shapes."

"It struck without warning."

"I lost half my unit before I even understood what was happening."

He exhaled.

"I survived... by chance."

Silence followed.

The Shaman continued.

"After many losses..."

"We finally reached the source."

He raised his staff again.

"A cavern."

"Deep beneath the earth."

"Filled with that substance."

"It flowed like liquid."

"It glowed faintly."

"It pulsed... as if alive."

His voice carried a hint of unease.

"We collected what we could."

"But we could not stay."

"The creatures began to gather."

"They sensed our presence."

"They came."

His grip tightened.

"We fled."

Another Warchief added.

"We lost more on the way out."

"Many more."

The Shaman lowered his staff slowly.

"But we succeeded."

"We brought some of it back."

He looked at Cerys.

"And yes..."

"There is more."

The implication was clear.

Much more.

Cerys absorbed all of it without visible reaction.

Then she asked calmly.

"And you want to..."

The Warchiefs answered together this time.

"We will follow the Young Warchief’s orders."

"We will protect the Valmont Family."

"We will protect the Forshaw Family."

"We will maintain peace as commanded."

Their voices were firm.

"But beyond that..."

One of them stepped forward.

"We will seek out the strongest beasts in this continent."

"Not ordinary ones."

"Not common threats."

"But those that stand above the rest."

"We will find them."

"We will observe them."

"We will evaluate their potential."

Another continued.

"And when we are certain..."

"We will use what we have."

"We will push them further."

"We will force them to evolve."

"We will make them grow stronger."

"And stronger."

"And stronger."

The tone grew intense.

"Until they reach a level worthy of being presented."

"Until they can stand before the Young Warchief."

"Until they can serve as proper offerings."

The Shaman spoke last.

"It will not be easy."

"It may fail."

"But we will try."

Cerys listened.

Her expression did not change.

Then she spoke.

"You may do as you wish."

There was no praise.

No encouragement.

Only acceptance.

"But..."

Her voice dropped slightly.

"Do not forget your primary task."

The air grew colder.

"Protect the families."

Her gaze sharpened.

"Maintain the peace he desires."

She took a step forward.

"And if you fail..."

Her presence pressed against the crack.

"I will be the one to silence you."

The words were not loud.

But they carried absolute certainty.

Before anyone could respond—

She vanished.

Not a step.

Not a movement.

She was simply no longer there.

The Warchiefs and the Shaman froze.

Their eyes widened.

Their senses spread outward instinctively.

Nothing.

They could not feel her.

Not even a trace.

One of them spoke slowly.

"She..."

Another finished.

"She disappeared..."

The Shaman tightened his grip on his staff.

"We did not sense it."

Silence followed.

Then another voice.

"That is not normal."

Another.

"She is only a maid..."

A third.

"No..."

He shook his head.

"She is not."

The Shaman exhaled slowly.

"She stands beside him."

That alone explained everything.

They calmed themselves gradually.

Their breathing steadied.

Their thoughts returned.

"We proceed as planned."

"Yes."

"We cannot fail."

"We must not fail."

Their voices became firm once more.

...

Meanwhile—

Clay lay on the bed.

His eyes were closed.

But sleep did not come.

He shifted slightly.

Then opened his eyes.

He stared at the ceiling for a long moment.

Then sat up.

"This is annoying."

He rubbed his face.

"I was already comfortable."

He stood and stretched.

"If I can’t sleep..."

He sighed.

"Then I’ll just walk."

He stepped out of the room quietly.

The hallway was calm.

Servants moved in the distance, but none approached him.

He walked past them without a word.

Then out of the mansion.

The sky had changed.

The sun was setting.

Warm light spread across the town, casting long shadows over the rebuilt structures.

Clay stood there for a moment.

Looking.

Watching.

It’s quiet.

He walked forward slowly.

Toward the stables.

The horses stirred slightly as he approached.

One of them snorted softly.

Clay placed a hand on its neck.

"You’re calmer than me."

The horse huffed in response.

He smiled faintly.

Then turned away.

He continued walking.

Through the streets.

People moved around him, but none disturbed him.

Some bowed.

Some whispered.

Some simply watched.

He ignored all of it.

His steps were slow.

Unhurried.

He let the atmosphere settle around him.

The sounds.

The movement.

The life.

Everything felt... normal.

So why...

His brows furrowed slightly.

Why can’t I relax?

He stopped for a moment.

Then continued walking.

Eventually, he returned to the mansion.

The guards opened the doors without question.

He walked back to his room.

Closed the door behind him.

Then returned to the bed.

He lay down again.

This time, he did not move.

He stared at the ceiling once more.

Everything is fine.

He told himself.

Everything is under control.

He closed his eyes.

But the thought remained.

Then why...

His breathing slowed.

Why do I feel like something big is going to happen?

Why do I feel like I neglected something?

Is that my gut telling me something was going to happen?

A butterfly effect?

Isn’t that thing useless?

No answer came.

Only silence.

And eventually, he finally fell asleep.