《Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me》 Chapter 1: The Fallen Kingdom "Oh, come on! Two against one? Really? You cowards can''t handle me solo, huh?" Alix''s slams his fist on the desk, his eyes glued to the screen as explosions and fire rain down on his virtual kingdom. "I''ve been holding you off for hours! Is that all you''ve got? Pathetic! Both your kingdoms combined couldn''t wipe me out!" His chat box is filled with angry messages, rapid-fire insults, and the occasional laughing emoji from his enemies. Enemy1: "Stop crying, bro. This is war!" Enemy2: "Your kingdom''s toast, noob." "Noob? Noob?! I''ve got twice the power of your puny castles, and you know it! You wouldn''t dare face me one-on-one, you little rats!" He quickly switches between tabs, issuing commands to his troops and fortifying his defenses. His hands are trembling, not from fear, but pure adrenaline. "I''m gonna make you regret this team-up. Just wait till I rebuild¡ªyour kingdoms are next! No alliances will save you then!" Another notification pops up: one of his strongholds has fallen. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Fine, take it. You''re only making me angrier, and trust me, you don''t want that!" He cracks open an energy drink and takes a long sip before diving back in, determined to fight until the bitter end. "Stupid junk... just hold on for a little longer, alright? I''m almost there." He''s sweating, his fingers flying over the keyboard of an ancient computer. The fans wheeze like an old man out of breath, and the screen flickers with static every few seconds. "Come on, you piece of crap, don''t quit on me now!" The year is 2050, and computers are a relic of the past¡ªbanned after they explode all the time. But in the slums, people like Alix have no choice. They scavenge, repair, and hope their machines don''t blow up in their faces. The screen flashes a warning: OVERLOAD IMMINENT. "Oh, shut up! I just need five more minutes!" Alarms blare from the computer, and smoke starts to curl from the back. Alix barely notices, too focused on dodging enemy attacks in his game. "Yes! Got you, you bast¡ª" The computer lets out a high-pitched whine, and before he can finish his sentence, there''s a deafening BOOM. The explosion rocks his tiny room, and shards of metal and plastic fly everywhere. For a moment, there''s nothing but silence, then the sound of debris settling. Alix''s ears ring, and everything goes black. When Alix opens his eyes, a sharp pain shoots through his head, and he groans. "Fuck... that junk exploded in my face." He rubs his temples, trying to ease the throbbing. As his vision clears, he freezes. His eyes widen in disbelief as he takes in the room around him. It''s grand and ominous, with towering black walls, crimson drapes, and intricate dark carvings along the furniture. "What the...?" The air feels heavy, almost electric. A massive bed, adorned with velvet sheets and surrounded by glowing runes, dominates the center of the room. "Wait a second... isn''t this...?" He stands up, still groggy, and stumbles toward an ornate mirror hanging on the wall. When he sees his reflection, his jaw drops. Instead of his own face, he''s staring at the sharp, regal features of his game character¡ªthe Demon King he''d been playing just minutes ago. His crimson eyes gleam, and a wicked grin spreads across his face. "No way... no freaking way. This is my character. Did I... get reincarnated?" The thought sends a rush of excitement through him. His heart pounds in his chest as he looks down at his hands, flexing his clawed fingers. He touches the elaborate armor that now covers his body. "This is insane... but awesome!" Instead of panic, a wild grin spreads across his face. "Hell yeah! Screw my old life. I had nothing there anyway. This... this is my chance to live like a king!" Alix is still marveling at his new body, turning side to side as he admires his reflection. "Damn, my three hours of tweaking every little detail in the character creation finally paid off. I''m very handsome." Suddenly, the sound of a door creaking open draws his attention. He spins around, his cape swirling dramatically. Standing in the doorway is a tall, humanoid bunny maid with silver fur and long ears that twitch slightly. Her uniform is elegant yet practical, and her piercing blue eyes lock onto him. It''s Draya, his personal maid from the game. Draya steps forward and bows deeply, her voice soft yet elegant. "Your Majesty, you''re finally awake." Alix blinks, stunned for a moment, then breaks into a wide grin. Alix: "Holy crap... Draya? You''re real?" She tilts her head slightly, her expression calm but curious. "Of course, Your Majesty. Is something amiss?" Alix suppresses a laugh, still unable to believe what''s happening. "No, nothing''s wrong. Everything''s perfect, actually." Draya straightens up, her face showing a flicker of relief. "That''s wonderful to hear, Your Majesty. Your kingdom awaits your guidance." "Alright, Draya. Let''s get down to business." He straightens his posture, trying to look as kingly as possible. "Can you tell me what''s been happening these past few days?" Draya nods, her ears twitching slightly. "Yes, Your Majesty. While we were at war with the two human kingdoms, you suddenly lost consciousness during a crucial moment. Without your leadership, the Five Lords took command of the troops to defend the kingdom. They fought valiantly, but over time, our forces began to waver under the relentless assault." Alix frowns, his hand resting on his chin as he listens intently. "Then, at the height of the battle, a mysterious white light engulfed the capital city. Before anyone could understand what was happening, the entire kingdom''s capital was teleported to this unknown forest. It''s as if the land itself was torn from its place and replanted here." "Teleported? An entire city?" Draya nods again. "Yes, Your Majesty. We are still unsure of the cause or the purpose, but we are safe for now. The forest surrounding us seems vast and uncharted, with no sign of our previous enemies." Chapter 2: The Five Lords "Interesting... So, we''re out of immediate danger, but it sounds like we''ve lost a lot." He pauses, narrowing his eyes. "What about the Five Lords? Are they in the Revival Stone?" Draya''s ears droop slightly, and her tone turns solemn. "Yes, Your Majesty. Almost all the top officers perished in the war. The Lords'' souls are currently in stasis within the Revival Stone, awaiting resurrection." Hearing this, Alix''s excitement fades, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I see... So we''re down to the bare bones. That''s a lot to take in." He sighs, then straightens up, his voice steady. He sighs, then straightens up, his voice steady. "Alright, you may go, Draya. I''ll summon you if I need anything." "As you wish, Your Majesty." She bows deeply and exits the room, leaving Alix alone in the dimly lit chamber. He rubs his temples, deep in thought. "Phantoms." In an instant, two shadowy figures materialize from the darkness, their forms twisting and flickering like living shadows. They kneel before him, their voices low and reverent. "Your Majesty, what are your orders?" "We await your command." Alix smirks, impressed by their eerie presence. "Good. You''re my assassins, my intelligence gatherers. I''ll need your skills soon enough." The shadows nod in unison, their forms rippling slightly. Alix thinks for a moment, then mutters to himself. "How do I check their status... and mine, for that matter?" As soon as the thought crosses his mind, a glowing, semi-transparent screen appears before him, displaying detailed information. He sees the names of the two Phantoms, their levels, and their roles as members of the Shadow unit. "Huh, so it''s just like the game... even better." He swipes through the interface mentally, reviewing their stats. The Phantoms are both low-level, with skills specializing in stealth, assassination, and reconnaissance. "Damn, they''re only level 300." He frowns, his excitement quickly dimming. "That''s the lowest rank in the Shadow unit. This isn''t good." He looks at the two Phantoms, their forms wavering like dark flames. "How many of you are left?" "There are only five of us remaining, Your Majesty." Alix''s jaw tightens as he processes the news. ''Only five? There should be at least fifty members in the Shadows. We''ve lost almost everyone.'' He exhales sharply and nods. "Alright, here''s your task. You five will scout the surrounding territory. I need a full report by the end of the day¡ªevery detail you can find about this forest, any potential threats, or useful resources." "Understood, Your Majesty. We will not fail." The Phantoms bow before dissolving into the shadows, leaving Alix alone once more. The Phantoms bow before dissolving into the shadows, leaving Alix alone once more. "We''re in worse shape than I thought. Let''s see what''s left of the treasury. I''ll need every resource I can get to rebuild." He steps out of his chambers, the cold stone halls of the castle eerily silent. The once-bustling corridors are now lifeless, save for the flickering torchlight casting long shadows on the walls. As he walks, he spots a stationary royal guard standing at attention. The royal guards were formidable warriors, each at least level 500. Alix: "You there." The guard snaps to attention, his armor gleaming faintly under the torchlight. "Your Majesty!" "How many royal guards remain?" The guard''s voice is steady but heavy. "Only two of us survived, Your Majesty." Alix''s expression darkens as he clenches his fists. He thought, ''Two... out of a full battalion, that''s about 500. This isn''t just a setback¡ªit''s a disaster.'' He waves the guard off. Alix: "Return to your post. We''ll need every bit of strength we have left." Guard: "Yes, Your Majesty." He quickens his pace, determined to uncover whatever remnants of power his kingdom still holds. Shortly after, Alix arrives at the Treasury. The massive black doors, etched with glowing red runes, slide open automatically with a deep, resonant hum. The sight before him is as he remembers¡ªa long hallway lined with towering statues of monstrous creatures, each one seemingly alive, their eyes as though following his every step. He walks forward, his footsteps echoing in the silent corridor. "This Treasury is exclusive to me. Not even the Five Lords can set foot in here without my permission." His gaze sweeps over the statues, lingering on the razor-sharp claws and the gleaming fangs. "If someone tries to break in... they''re dead before they even reach the treasure." He smirks, feeling a sense of pride. He thought, ''The door alone is nearly indestructible¡ªlevel 1000 strength required to destroy it. And if someone actually manages to get past, they''ll face ten level 800 Guardians. No one''s surviving that.'' He stops in front of a particularly fearsome statue¡ªa chimera with three heads, each snarling in a different direction. "These guardians... They''re my insurance." He runs his fingers along the cold, smooth stone of the statue. "I got so lucky when that boss dropped the Treasury blueprint. Spent an entire year grinding for the materials. No shortcuts, no real money to buy them." He chuckles bitterly, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "Everyone laughed at me back then. Said I''d never finish it. But look at this masterpiece now." As he reaches the end of the hallway, he places his hand on a glowing crystal embedded in the final door. The runes flare brightly, scanning his aura before the heavy door creaks open, revealing the vault inside. The door groans as it swings open, revealing the interior of the Treasury. Alix steps inside, his anticipation high, but the sight before him makes him freeze. His eyes widen, and his breath catches. "What... the hell?!" His hands tremble, and a wave of rage surges through him. "Empty?! Where''s all the gold coins?!" He scans the room frantically. A few weapons and pieces of armor remain, their faint auras glowing on their pedestals, but the mounds of gold he painstakingly amassed over years of grinding are nowhere to be found. "Damn it!" He slams his fist against the wall, the sound echoing in the vast chamber. "Without the gold, I can''t use the Revival Stone... I can''t bring back my subordinates!" Chapter 3: Divine Items The realization hits him hard. He paces, his mind racing. ''To resurrect even one of the lowest rank soldiers, I need thousands of gold coins. This doesn''t make sense. How could everything just vanish?'' He stops abruptly, glaring at the remaining items. Alix can only sigh helplessly. "Let''s see if the Divine Items are still here, at least." He walks to a section of the Treasury''s wall and presses his hand against a seemingly ordinary panel. The stone shifts and grinds as a secret door slowly opens, revealing a small, dimly lit chamber. Inside, three pedestals stand, each holding a glowing artifact. Alix breathes a small sigh of relief. "At least these are still here..." He steps forward, his eyes drawn to the first item¡ªa crimson sword, its blade etched with runes that pulse faintly like a beating heart. The hilt is wrapped in black leather, with a ruby embedded in its crossguard. The air around the sword seems to shimmer with heat. "Hellfire Edge... The blade that can cut through anything, even space-time itself. It''s said one swing could sever dimensions." He moves to the second pedestal. A simple silver ring rests there, unassuming in its design, but the air around it hums with a faint energy. Alix: "The Null Ring... Wipes out any curse, debuff, or negative status effect. Even Divine-level curses will get weakened by fifty percent. A literal cheat code." He picks it up, slipping it onto his finger. A cool, soothing sensation spreads through his body. Finally, he turns to the third pedestal, where a golden book lies, its cover engraved with intricate patterns that seem to shift under the light. Despite its beauty, Alix frowns. "The Eternal Codex... The one Divine Item I still can''t figure out. It won''t open, and no one''s ever been able to decipher its purpose." He lifts the book, feeling its weight. The gold gleams, its surface untarnished by time. Alix remembers trying to sell it once, only for potential buyers to laugh after learning it couldn''t be used. "Even as a Divine Item, it''s worthless if no one knows what it does." Still, he places the Codex back gently, his gaze lingering on it. Still, he places the Codex back gently, his gaze lingering on it. ''Most top kingdoms have dozens of Devine item, and I only have three. But for a free-to-play player, this is a miracle.'' He steps back, taking in the sight of the two Divine Items. Alix already wears the Null Ring, its comforting hum a reminder of its passive protection. As for the Hellfire Edge, he hesitates. "I''ve always been cautious with this thing..." he mutters, staring at the crimson blade. "In the game, it drained HP constantly. But still..." Curiosity wins. He reaches out and grasps the hilt. The moment his fingers close around it, a rush of scorching heat surges up his arm. Suddenly, a transparent screen materializes before him: Warning: Insufficient Level to Wield Hellfire Edge. Current Penalty: -10% HP per second. Death in 10 seconds if usage continues. His eyes widen in alarm. "Are you kidding me?!" His HP bar, now visible in the corner of his vision, plummets rapidly. Without another thought, he slams the blade back onto its pedestal. The draining sensation stops immediately, and his HP stabilizes. He exhales sharply, wiping the sweat from his brow. "That was close... Way too close. Damn thing''s just as dangerous as I remember." He glares at the sword, his heart still pounding. "Wait a second..." he mutters, his brows furrowing. "Why did it say ''insufficient level''? I''m max level¡ªlevel 1000. There''s no way I''m under-leveled for anything in this game." Suspicion growing, he swipes his hand through the air, summoning his status screen. The glowing panel appears, and his eyes scan the familiar layout. But what he sees next makes his stomach drop. Status: (Level 1000 lock) Level 200 (20% Unlocked) "What?!" Alix''s voice echoes in the chamber. He frantically scrolls through the details, disbelief flooding his features. "This can''t be right! I was maxed out! I spent years grinding to hit 1000¡ªno way I''m back at 100!" Then, at the bottom of the screen, bold text catches his attention: To unlock your levels, gain citizens and expand your kingdom. He glances back at the Hellfire Edge, its runes pulsing faintly. "That explains why I can''t use you. I''m not even close to the level I need to wield that thing." He swipes the status screen away and rubs his temples, trying to calm his racing thoughts. "Alright, fine. If that''s how it is, then I''ll play by the rules. I''ll rebuild the kingdom, gather citizens, and unlock my levels, piece by piece." Alix steps out of the Treasury, determination hardening his features. The dim corridors of the castle stretch before him, lit only by flickering torches. As he approaches the main gate, he calls out, his voice resonating through the empty halls. "Guards! You''re coming with me." The two remaining royal guards appear almost instantly, their heavy footfalls echoing as they march to his side. Their monstrous forms loom in the torchlight¡ªone, a hulking orc clad in black plate armor, his tusks gleaming, and the other, a lithe lizardman with emerald scales, his eyes sharp and vigilant. "Your Majesty," the orc rumbles, bowing slightly. "What are your orders?" "We''re going outside. I need to see the state of the capital." The guards exchange brief glances before nodding in unison. "As you command." The trio steps through the castle''s grand entrance, the massive iron doors creaking open to reveal the sprawling city beyond. Alix inhales deeply, the familiar yet unsettling scent of the Monster Kingdom hitting him¡ªa mix of damp stone, faint sulfur, and the earthy musk of creatures. He descends the stairs, his boots clicking against the obsidian steps, and surveys the city. Towering spires made of jagged blackstone pierce the sky, their surfaces etched with glowing crimson runes. Streets of dark cobblestone wind through the city, lined with grotesque statues of ancient beasts. The lanterns flickering along the roads emit an eerie green light, casting long shadows on the cracked walls of buildings. Chapter 4: Goblin Village But there''s no sound. No movement. The once-thriving monster capital, filled with the clamor of merchants, the roars of beasts, and the laughter of goblin children, is now a ghost town. Alix sighs, his breath visible in the cold air. "As expected... Not a single citizen left," he mutters, his tone bitter. "A city built for millions, now empty." The lizardman guard hisses softly, his tongue flicking out. "We''ll rebuild, Your Majesty. Monsters are resilient." Alix smirks faintly, his gaze sweeping over the desolate streets. "Resilient, yes... but scattered." He walks further into the city, his guards flanking him. They pass a massive fountain in the shape of a hydra, its multiple heads spewing streams of water into the cracked basin below. "This kingdom was supposed to be different," Alix says quietly, more to himself than his guards. He thought, ''I chose monsters because everyone else picked humans¡ªboring, predictable. I wanted a challenge, and I built this place from nothing.'' His voice rises, tinged with frustration. "And now, it''s all gone. Wiped out in one war. All that work... gone in an instant." The orc guard speaks, his deep voice steady. "Your Majesty, you''re still here. As long as you live, this kingdom can rise again." Alix glances at him, his smirk returning, though faint. "You''re right. We''re not done yet." He stops in the middle of a grand square, the silence pressing down on them like a weight. Alix stares at the empty square for a long moment, then turns sharply on his heel. "Enough wandering. Back to the throne room.", The guards silently follow as Alix strides through the deserted streets, his black cloak trailing behind him. The towering gates of the castle creak open as they approach, and soon he''s seated on the massive obsidian throne, its jagged edges glinting in the dim torchlight. His fingers tap against the armrest as he waits, his crimson eyes fixed on the shadows dancing across the walls. The sun dips below the horizon, and the room darkens. Just as the last rays of light fade, the air shifts. From the darkness near the throne''s base, a figure materializes¡ªsilent and fluid, as if stepping out of the void itself. A member of the Shadow, clad in tattered black robes, kneels before Alix, their voice a low whisper. "Your Majesty, we''ve scouted the area around the city." Alix leans forward, his gaze sharp. "Report." The Shadow continues, his tone steady despite the weight of his words. "We''ve found scattered groups of monsters and beasts. None have ventured close to the capital, but they linger in the surrounding regions. And we found no trace of humans." Alix nods, his expression unreadable. "Go on." "There is a goblin village to the northeast, about half a day''s journey on foot. We also encountered an unfamiliar monster to the south." "Unfamiliar?" Alix narrows his eyes. "Describe it." The Shadow tilts their head slightly, as if recalling the details. "It stood over ten feet tall, its skin a sickly green, with sharp tusks protruding from its lower jaw. Its body was muscular, but its features were brutish¡ªalmost porcine." Alix''s eyes flicker with recognition. He waves his hand dismissively. "Nice job. If there''s nothing more, you can go." The Shadow bows deeply before dissolving back into the darkness. Once alone, Alix leans back in his throne, his mind racing. "That sounds like an orc," he murmurs to himself. "But not the ones from the game. Those were massive, yes, but refined¡ªintelligent, even. This... pig-faced brute is something else entirely." He closes his eyes, piecing together the fragments of information. "This world... it''s similar, but not the same. Even the monsters are changing." Alix opens his eyes, his expression hardening as determination takes root in his chest. "Even if I''m not in the game anymore¡ªor if this is some entirely different world¡ªit doesn''t matter. I will conquer this world. It''s mine to take, just like before." Alix smirks, then turns and strides back to the throne. He lowers himself into the seat, his sharp gaze fixed ahead, as though already envisioning the kingdom reborn. "But that''s enough for today. Tomorrow, I''ll decide my next move." He leans back, letting the weight of the day settle over him, his mind already planning the steps to reclaim his lost empire. The torches flicker, and the room plunges into silence once more. The next day, Alix sits on his throne, his eyes fixed on the vast empty hall before him. His fingers tap rhythmically against the armrest, and a faint sigh escapes his lips. "If only Luan were here," he murmurs. His voice is soft, almost wistful. "Luan, my best strategist. In the game, the AI was so advanced that I could rely on him to devise flawless plans for conquest. Compared to the strategies of those top kingdoms, Luan''s were unmatched." His crimson gaze darkens slightly as memories of their countless victories flood his mind. He straightens, brushing the thought aside, and calls out. "Shadow." In an instant, the room shifts. From the dim recesses of the chamber, figures materialize, their forms fluid and silent. One by one, the members of the Shadow kneel before him, their black robes billowing like smoke. "I have a task for you." The Shadow nearest him speaks, "Your command, Your Majesty." "I want you to seek out the leader of that goblin village to the northeast. Invite them here." The Shadow remains still, listening intently as Alix continues. "But listen closely. Refrain from using brute force or intimidation. No threats. No fear. Make it clear this is an invitation, not a demand." "Is that clear?" Alix''s gaze sweeps over them. "Crystal, Your Majesty," the lead Shadow replies. "Good," Alix says, leaning back into his throne. "You''re dismissed. Carry out the task immediately." Without another word, the Shadows dissolve back into the darkness, leaving the room silent once more. Alix watches as they vanish, his mind already working through potential outcomes. He sits in silence, waiting for the results. Chapter 5: Goblins Arrived At The City In the deep forest, the goblin village hums with quiet activity. Small wooden huts are clustered around a central clearing, their makeshift chimneys releasing thin trails of smoke into the canopy above. A group of goblin children plays near a bubbling creek, their laughter mingling with the rustling leaves. Inside the largest hut, the goblin chief stands by a rough-hewn wooden table, his gnarled hands resting on its surface. He''s an older goblin, his green skin mottled with age, and his eyes sharp and wary. "Is everything already prepared?" A female goblin steps forward, her arms laden with baskets of wild mushrooms and roots. She bows slightly. "Yes, Chief. All the ingredients for cooking have been gathered." "Good. The hunters should''ve returned by now. I just hope they didn''t run into any trouble... especially with those damned orcs lurking around." Another goblin, a younger male sharpening a crude spear, pipes up. "The orcs haven''t been seen this far north in weeks. I doubt they''ll find our hunters." The chief shakes his head, "Never underestimate those brutes. They''re cunning when they need to be." "We''ve been careful, Chief. The hunters know the safest paths." Just then, the sound of footsteps approaches from the edge of the clearing. The goblin children scatter, their playful shouts turning to curious whispers. The chief turns, his hand instinctively gripping the hilt of the dagger at his side. The chief exhales, his posture relaxing. "You''re back. What did you find?" The lead hunter grins, tossing the bundle to the ground. It unravels to reveal a collection of fresh game¡ªrabbits, a few wild birds, and even a small boar. "Enough to feed the whole village, Chief," the hunter says proudly. "And no sign of orcs." The chief nods. "Well done. Let''s get everything prepared. Today, we feast." While the goblins prepare for their feast, the shadows deepen at the village entrance. From the dark edge of the forest, four cloaked figures emerge, their movements silent and fluid. The villagers pause, their chatter fading to uneasy murmurs. The lead Shadow steps forward, his voice calm but firm. "Good day to you, goblins." The hunters immediately tense, their instincts kicking in. Goruk, a burly goblin with a scar across his left cheek and a knife in hand, leaps forward without hesitation, aiming for the Shadow leader''s throat. But before he gets close, the Shadow shifts like smoke, evading Goruk''s strike effortlessly. With a flick of his wrist, the hunter crumples to the ground, unconscious. Gasps ripple through the villagers as their strongest hunter, Brak, steps forward, his spear at the ready. "What just happened?" His eyes dart between the fallen Goruk and the unmoving Shadow. The Shadow leader raises his hands, palms out. "Calm yourselves. We are not here to harm you. Your comrade is merely unconscious, and he will wake soon." His voice carries an eerie authority. "We come with orders from His Majesty. He invites you to his kingdom." The goblin chief, Gornak. "What nonsense is this? There''s no kingdom in these woods." "Perhaps you''ve yet to see it, but it exists. We offer safe passage. His Majesty wishes to speak with you." Gornak glances at Brak, his most trusted hunter. "What do you think?" Brak tightens his grip on his spear. "We don''t have much choice. If this one wanted us dead, we''d already be corpses." The chief gives a slow nod. "Very well. But if this is a trick, we won''t go down quietly." "Understood. Prepare yourselves. We leave immediately." After half an hour of following the mysterious person through the dense forest, the goblins emerge into a vast clearing. Before them stands a towering wall, its dark stone glistening faintly under the evening light. The structure looms over them, its height seemingly touching the clouds. The goblins freeze in place, their eyes wide in awe and disbelief. Gornak steps forward, his voice filled with astonishment. "When... when did such a huge city get built here? I''ve lived in these woods my whole life. I''ve never seen anything like this." Brak said. "We hunted here just last week, Chief. There was nothing but trees. This place... it shouldn''t be here." The Shadow leader, now standing just ahead of them, speaks without turning. "You just need to keep moving." As they approach a smaller gate set into the wall, the Shadows silently fade, leaving the goblins alone. Two armored guards stand at the gate, their massive forms barely moving. Brak''s eyes narrow as he studies them. The guards radiate an oppressive aura, their sheer presence sending a chill down his spine. His instincts scream at him to turn and run. Gornak notices Brak''s tense stance. "What is it?" Brak''s voice is low, almost a whisper. "These guards... they''re strong. As strong as that mysterious person who led us here." Gornak frowns, glancing nervously at the guards. "Stronger than any orc you''ve faced?" Brak nods. "Easily." One of the guards steps forward, their armor gleaming even in the dim light. Their voice is deep and resonant, echoing slightly in the quiet. "Go inside. Someone is waiting for you all." The gate creaks open, revealing a wide street that leads into the city. Without another word, the goblins follow, their steps hesitant. As they step through the gate, their jaws drop. Instead of the bustling city they''d imagined, they''re met with silence. The streets are eerily empty, the only sounds coming from the wind that whistles through the towering spires and massive, ornate buildings. "This... this place feels like a ghost city," Brak mutters, his grip tightening on his spear. Gornak nods, his eyes darting around. The city is vast, its architecture far beyond anything he could have dreamed¡ªcolossal arches, monstrous statues, and intricate carvings of beasts and creatures. At the center of the open plaza stands a single figure. Their golden armor glints under the faint light, and his presence exudes authority. As the goblins approach, the armored figure speaks, their voice calm and measured. "I am here on behalf of His Majesty. He wishes to speak with the chief of your village." Chapter 6: Chief Gornak Gornak steps forward, "I am the chief. But... may I bring one of my people with me?" He gestures toward Brak. The soldier inclines his head slightly. "You may." The soldier''s gaze sweeps over the rest of the goblins. "As for the rest of you, take your time. Explore the city. Everything you see is at your disposal." Brak exchanges a wary glance with Gornak. "Chief, this city... it feels like something out of a dream. Are you sure about this?" Gornak said. "We already come this far. We''ll see this through." As they walk through the grand streets toward the palace, the silence between them stretches. Gornak finally breaks it, his voice hushed yet filled with awe. "This city... it''s enormous. I''ve never seen anything like it." Brak glances at the towering spires and elaborate carvings. "Chief, you''re the only one among us who''s ever been to a human town. What do you think of this place?" "In my younger days, I did see a human city from the distance¡ªbustling streets, tall buildings, markets overflowing with goods. But compared to this... That city was a village. This place feels like it belongs to a god." The palace looms before them, an awe-inspiring structure of dark, gleaming stone and towering spires that seem to pierce the sky. The intricate designs etched into its surface shimmer faintly, as if alive. The air around it feels heavy, charged with an unspoken power. Brak''s voice is low. "In this world, we''re nothing but goblins, always scurrying to survive. What kind of king lives in a place like this?" Gornak said. "We''re about to find out." Shortly after, they find themselves standing before a massive door, its surface carved with intricate runes that seem to pulse faintly. The royal guard halts, gesturing for them to proceed alone. The door creaks open, revealing a vast throne room bathed in a soft crimson glow. A powerful aura washes over them, heavy and oppressive. Both goblins instinctively lower their gazes, their legs trembling as they take cautious steps forward. Brak''s voice is a whisper. "Chief... I can''t look up. It feels like my body won''t let me." "Stay calm," Gornak murmurs, though his own voice wavers. They walk further in, the sound of their footsteps swallowed by the eerie silence. When they reach the center of the room, Gornak gathers his strength and raises his head. His breath catches. Sitting upon a dark throne is a regal figure¡ªa monster unlike any Gornak has ever seen. Crimson armor adorned with jagged edges covers his tall frame, and his pale skin gleams faintly under the dim light. Scales ripple along parts of his body, glinting like precious gems. His sharp, crimson eyes lock onto Gornak, and a chilling smile spreads across his face. "You finally arrived," the figure says, his voice smooth yet carrying a weight that demands submission. Gornak immediately nudges Brak, who hesitates before dropping to one knee beside him. "Your Majesty," Gornak says, his tone reverent but cautious. "May I ask why you have summoned us lowly goblins to your great kingdom?" The figure¡ªAlix¡ªleans forward slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studies Gornak. "You know how to show courtesy. I''m impressed," he says with a faint smirk. Gornak bows his head lower. "I have some knowledge of royalty, Your Majesty. But still, I find your invitation... unexpected." Alix chuckles softly. "Then I will be direct. I want you and your people to join my kingdom." The words hang in the air, leaving both goblins stunned. Brak glances at Gornak, his disbelief clear. "Your Majesty... forgive my boldness, but... are you certain? We are but goblins, hunted and scorned by many. Why would a king of your stature want us?" Alix leans back on his throne. "As you can see, my kingdom is empty. I need citizens. Even if you are goblins, you are welcome here." His tone softens slightly, but the authority in his voice remains. Gornak looks up briefly, his expression filled with a mix of gratitude and confusion. "I understand, Your Majesty. Thank you for not discriminating against us goblins. It''s rare for anyone to treat us as equals." Alix''s lips curve into a smile. "Haha, in my kingdom, every monster is equal. Strength, loyalty, and determination are what matter here. So, Gornak, will you join me?" Gornak nods slowly. "It will be our pleasure, Your Majesty. But... I do have a request." "A request?" "Yes, Your Majesty. My people... we are not used to such a vast city. It would overwhelm us. If possible, I would like for us to remain in our village. We will, however, pledge our loyalty and pay you tribute in gold coins every month, in exchange for your protection." Alix''s eyes gleam with interest. "Gold coins, you say? Let me see them." Without hesitation, Gornak reaches into a pouch at his side and retrieves a handful of gold coins. He approaches the throne and places them on the ground before Alix, bowing deeply as he does so. Alix picks up one of the coins, turning it over in his hand. His heart races, though his expression remains composed. ''These... they''re identical to the ones I used in the game. A surge of excitement rushes through him. If this is true, I can use these to revive my subordinates.'' He hides his excitement behind a calm exterior, setting the coin aside. "Interesting. Very well, Gornak. I will allow your village to remain as it is. As for protection..." Alix''s eyes flick to the darkened corner of the throne room. "Come forth," he commands. Gornak''s voice trembles as he stares. "Sir... are you a hobgoblin?" "I am," he replies, his voice deep and resonant. "My name is Calak, a humble soldier of His Majesty." Brak instinctively steps back, his hands trembling. "Chief... a hobgoblin... They''re supposed to be nothing but legends. How can one be here?" Alix watches the exchange, his expression unreadable but inwardly satisfied. They''re already looking at Calak like he''s a god. This will ensure their unwavering loyalty. Chapter 7: Refu Alix decides to gather more information. He leans forward slightly on his throne, addressing Gornak. "Tell me, is there a city near my kingdom? Somewhere I could learn more about this world?" "A city, Your Majesty? No, not nearby. But there is a town called Gilderock, governed by Lord Refu. It''s a small place, but it''s important. They trade with the humans and that''s where we get our gold coins when we sell our goods." Alix said. "This Lord Refu¡ªwhat kind of monster is he?" Gornak shrugs. "I''ve only seen him from afar during trade gatherings, so I don''t have any Idea. He seems fair, though strict. Gilderock is well-protected, and the humans seem to respect him." Brak interjects. "Chief, do you think it''s wise to mention our trade with humans to His Majesty?" Alix waves a hand dismissively. "Relax. I''m not here to punish or restrict you. Continue trading as you see fit." "Thank you, Your Majesty. If it pleases you, I can draw a simple map to show you where Gilderock is located." "Do that," Alix says. "I''ll need it." Gornak quickly sketches a rough map on a piece of parchment provided by Draya. He hands it to the king with a deep bow. "Here, Your Majesty. I hope it serves you well." Alix takes the map, studying it for a moment before tucking it away. "You''ve been helpful, Gornak. Now, return to your village and prepare your people." "Yes, Your Majesty," Gornak says. He bows deeply once more before turning to leave with Calak and Brak following closely behind. Once they''ve exited the throne room, Alix slumps back into his throne, muttering under his breath. "Damn. That answers my question. I''m not in the game world anymore." He pauses, letting the realization sink in. "Well... this might actually be better." Alix glances at the map again, then looks over to Draya, who stands quietly at his side. "Draya, can you get my beastskin armor?" Draya nods immediately. "Yes, Your Majesty. Right away." While she''s gone, Alix leans back in his throne, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. The beastskin armor isn''t impressive by any means¡ªit''s a low-level piece of gear he''d long since outgrown in terms of stats. But it had one invaluable feature: it allowed the wearer to blend in perfectly. The enchantment on the armor dulls his imposing presence and slightly alters his appearance, making him look like an ordinary monster. It had been his favorite tool for infiltrating enemy territory and causing chaos in the game. Minutes later, Draya returns, carrying the simple, worn-looking armor in her arms. She kneels before him, holding it out with reverence. "Your beastskin armor, as requested, Your Majesty." Alix stands and steps down from the throne, taking the armor from her. He smirks, running a hand over its rough surface. "This old thing... It''s not much to look at, but it never failed me before." Draya tilts her head slightly. "If I may ask, Your Majesty... why this armor? You have far grander pieces." Alix chuckles, slipping off his crimson gauntlets. "Exactly why I''m wearing it. I don''t want to attract attention." He begins putting on the beastskin armor, its enchantment activating instantly. His sharp features soften, his height appears slightly reduced, and his crimson eyes become ordinary. Draya observes in silence as Alix finishes adjusting the armor. She takes a step forward, bowing slightly. "Shall I prepare anything else, Your Majesty?" Alix said. "Just one more thing¡ªprepare the royal carriage. I''ll need it ready within the hour." "As you command." Draya turns and strides out. Alix follows shortly after, the soft hum of the beastskin''s enchantment making him feel less conspicuous. As he steps into the grand hall, his eyes fall upon a lizardman standing at attention near the entrance¡ªa royal guard clad in dark-scaled armor, his posture disciplined and unwavering. "You," Alix calls out, his voice commanding yet casual. The lizardman snaps to attention, his tail flicking slightly. "Yes, Your Majesty?" "You''re coming with me," Alix says as he walks past him, not breaking his stride. "We''re going somewhere." The lizardman''s eyes gleam with a mix of surprise and honor. "It would be my privilege to accompany you, Your Majesty." The lizardman is almost overwhelmed with pride. During the kingdom''s peak, he was just another soldier guarding the throne room, barely acknowledged by the higher-ups. Now, to be chosen to accompany the king himself¡ªit''s more than he ever dreamed. He''d chosen the royal guard to accompany him for a reason. If trouble came in the form of a high-level enemy¡ªsomething far beyond his current locked level of 200¡ªthe guard could serve as a valuable distraction, even for a second. That would be enough for Alix to activate the emergency teleport item hidden in his belt. Cautious and pragmatic, Alix had no intention of gambling with his life in this unfamiliar world. He didn''t yet know if death here meant true death, and he wasn''t eager to find out. They arrive at the palace gates, where Draya awaits beside the sleek, black carriage. The intricate designs carved into its surface reflect the sunlight. "The carriage is ready, Your Majesty," Draya announces, stepping aside to open the door. Alix studies the carriage for a moment, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. The design may seem simple at first glance, but its true power lies beneath. This wasn''t just any carriage¡ªit was one of the kingdom''s prized artifacts, capable of flight thanks to the rare skybeast bound to its core. As he approaches, Alix nods to the lizardman. "You''ll take the reins." The lizardman blinks in surprise. "Me, Your Majesty? I''ve never driven a sky carriage before." "You''ll learn fast," Alix says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "The skybeast knows the way. Just keep your hands steady, and don''t crash." "Understood, Your Majesty." He climbs onto the driver''s seat, gripping the reins with both hands. The reins are connected to a shimmering orb embedded in the front of the carriage, which hums faintly as he takes control. The orb glows brighter, and with a soft rumble, the carriage lifts gently off the ground. Chapter 8: Adventurer Group The morning sun bathes the land in a golden hue as the carriage ascends into the clear sky. Alix sits back in the cushioned interior, gazing out of the small window. Within moments, he spots the silhouette of Gilderock on the horizon¡ªits stone walls and clustered rooftops forming a sharp contrast against the forest surrounding it. Alix said. "Stop here. Keep us far from the town." "Yes, Your Majesty." The carriage hovers just above the ground, its soft hum fading. Alix steps out, his boots crunching on the forest floor. He inhales deeply, taking in the fresh scent of trees and earth. Alix turns to the lizardman guard, his expression sharp but calm. "Remember, don''t call me ''Your Majesty'' inside. Just call me Alix." The lizardman''s golden eyes widen briefly before he nods. "Y-Yes, Your Maj¡ª I mean... Sir Alix." Alix smirks, noting the guard''s unease. The royal guard doesn''t know whether to feel honored or terrified. They tread through the forest until they stumble upon a dirt road. It winds lazily through the trees, leading straight to the town in the distance. "Stay close," Alix instructs as they begin walking along the road. The air grows busier with distant chatter, the clinking of tools, and occasional roars of creatures. By the time they reach Gilderock''s outskirts, the sun fully illuminates the town. It''s packed with monsters of all shapes and sizes. Hulking ogres haul wooden crates, their muscles rippling under the strain. Winged harpies glide between crumbling rooftops, screeching at one another. Goblins haggle loudly over stolen trinkets, their shrill voices cutting through the general chaos. Alix narrows his eyes as he takes it all in. The town is a mess. Wooden shacks lean precariously against one another, stone buildings have chunks missing, and the streets are uneven and littered with debris. "This," Alix mutters, his tone laced with disdain, "is what they call a town?" The lizardman looks around nervously, unsure how to respond. "It''s... functional. At least for us monsters." They push their way through the crowded street. A bulky ogre nearly crashes into Alix, snorting in irritation before lumbering away. A group of orcs argue loudly over a broken cart, while a goblin merchant tries to hawk rusted weapons from a creaky stall. Alix thought, ''Damn, this place feels like a fever dream. The noise, the smell, the clutter¡ªit''s overwhelming.'' He feels like he''s walking through a bizarre nightmare, yet no one spares them a second glance. It''s exactly as he wanted. His eyes flick to the lizardman beside him, now clad in simple, dull leather armor. Alix had ordered him to leave his golden royal guard armor in the carriage to avoid drawing attention. It seems to be working. Then Alix remembers something¡ªhis system. He thinks, ''I should use it to check these monsters'' levels.'' Focusing on a passing ogre, he activates the system. A translucent status screen materializes before him, displaying the creature''s information. [Ogre: Level 30] He narrows his eyes and shifts his focus to a pair of bickering goblins. [Goblin: Level 8] Turning his gaze to a harpy perched on a rooftop, the screen changes. [Harpy: Level 20] Alix frowns. He scans the street, checking various monsters at random. The highest level he finds is a burly orc struggling to lift a massive crate. [Orc: Level 25] They''re all so weak, he thinks, his disbelief slowly turning into amusement. Is this entire town made up of low-level mobs? The lizardman guard notices Alix''s expression shift and hesitates. "Sir Alix... is something wrong?" "No," Alix says, smirking faintly. "Just realizing how fragile this place really is." The lizardman looks confused but doesn''t press further. -------- Meanwhile, just outside Gilderock, a caravan of wagons rumbles along the dirt road. At its head, a group of five adventurers walks in formation, their gear glinting in the sunlight. The leader, a grizzled man with a scar running down his left cheek, surveys the area with sharp, calculating eyes. His name is Doran, and his level 50 status is evident in his confident gait and the intricate, rune-etched sword at his side. "Alright, listen up," Doran calls out, his voice firm but calm. "I know we''ve done this a dozen times already, but that doesn''t mean you get to slack off. We''re heading into monster lord territory, so stay alert." A tall woman with short-cropped red hair, clad in white and gold healer''s robes, scoffs. Her name is Lina. "Captain, we know the drill," she says, adjusting her staff. "It''s been years, and nothing bad''s ever happened." Doran gives her a sidelong glance, his expression unreadable. "Complacency gets people killed, Lina. You should know that." "Relax, Captain," another adventurer, a burly man with twin axes strapped to his back, chimes in. Tarak grins, his teeth flashing under his thick beard. "Even if we run into trouble, we''re more than capable of handling it." Beside him, a wiry man with a bow slung across his shoulder¡ªRen, the group''s sharpshooter¡ªnods in agreement. "He''s right. With you at level 50 and us backing you up, nothing out here stands a chance." A younger warrior, Kiel, carrying a broad shield, looks over nervously. "Still... it is a monster lord''s territory. Maybe we should be more careful." His voice is tinged with uncertainty, betraying his relative inexperience. The merchant riding atop one of the wagons pipes up, chuckling. "You all worry too much. That monster Refu is not stupid. If he harmed us, the city master would wipe him and his little town off the map. He knows better." Doran sighs, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. "Maybe. But it''s not just Refu I''m worried about. We don''t know what other creatures roam this area. So, until we''re out of Gilderock, everyone keeps their guard up." The group falls into a tense silence, the sound of the wagon wheels creaking and horses snorting filling the air. Shortly after, they finally arrive at the outskirts of Gilderock. The gates creak open, revealing the chaotic streets packed with monsters of every kind. As the caravan rolls in, the bustling crowd begins to part. Chapter 9: Doran The monsters glare at the humans, their eyes filled with thinly veiled hatred. A hulking ogre growls under his breath, gripping the edge of a crate so tightly that the wood splinters. "If not for Refu''s orders, these humans wouldn''t last a second," a goblin mutters to another, his yellow teeth bared. "Yeah," the other sneers. "We''d tear them apart." It''s no secret that humans and monsters despise one another. Monsters are hunted for their bodies¡ªtheir hides, claws, and bones turned into weapons, potions, and talismans. In turn, monsters see humans as nothing more than prey¡ªfood, or worse. The orcs in particular have a reputation for abducting human women, using them to breed their next generation of warriors. The caravan presses forward, the humans feeling the weight of the monsters'' hostile stares. "Captain," Lina whispers, her fingers tightening around her staff. "Like usual, they''re looking at us like we''re fresh meat." Doran doesn''t turn, his gaze fixed ahead. "Let them look. They know better than to try anything." "They hate us," Kiel mutters, his voice shaking slightly. "You can feel it in the air." Tarak chuckles darkly, his hand resting on the hilt of one of his axes. "Good. Let ''em hate us. Makes it all the sweeter when they remember who''s in charge." "Enough," Doran says sharply. "Focus. We''re here to deliver the goods and leave. No unnecessary confrontations." Alix watches the scene from the shadows of a crumbling building, his hood drawn low over his face. He spots the caravan immediately¡ªthe humans stand out like beacons among the monstrous crowd. Their formation is tight, their movements precise, and their wary glances give away their unease. Curious, Alix activates his system and examines them one by one. [Level 50] [Level 30] [Level 30] [Level 30] [Level 28] "The strongest is only level 50?" he murmurs to himself, his expression indifferent. Moments later, the crowd of monsters begins to part, a low rumble of anticipation spreading through them. A bloated ogre strides forward, his massive bulk shaking the ground with each step. His skin is dark and rough, like hardened leather, and he wears a crude metal breastplate that barely contains his girth. On either side of him, two lean, muscular gnolls follow closely, their sharp teeth bared in a perpetual snarl. [Refu: Level 80] [Gnoll Guard: Level 40] [Gnoll Guard: Level 42] Refu''s deep, gravelly voice booms as he approaches the merchant. "You''re late," Refu growls, his small, beady eyes narrowing. The merchant hurriedly hops down from the wagon. "Apologies, the roads were rough, but I''ve brought the usual supplies." Refu snorts, crossing his massive arms. "You''d better have. I don''t tolerate delays." Doran steps forward, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword. His voice is steady, but there''s a sharp edge to it. "The delivery is intact, as always. Let''s make this quick." Refu sneers, waving a thick hand toward a nearby goblin. "Get all the materials. Now. And make it fast, before I squish you to death." The goblin yelps, scrambling into the caravan. A few tense moments pass before it returns, arms overflowing with various herbs that can only be found deep in the forest, monster parts, and other assorted items. The goblin dumps everything unceremoniously onto the ground at Refu''s feet. Refu grins, "Good. Now it''s your turn," Turning back to the merchant. "I can''t wait to see what you''ve brought me this time. Hahaha!". The merchant quickly gestures to his men. "Unload everything. Now." The human workers spring into action, hauling crates from the wagons. The first few contain slabs of raw meat, likely from hunted beasts, followed by crude healing potions and a few others Alix can''t identify. Finally, they drop a hefty sack of gold coins at Refu''s feet. Alix narrows his eyes, watching intently. ''Low-grade healing potions and a bit of gold? That''s hardly worth an excitement.'' His question is answered when the final wagon is unloaded. From its dark interior, two human women are dragged out, their wrists bound in heavy chains. They stumble forward, their eyes wide with fear and exhaustion, their thin clothes doing little to protect them from the chill in the air. The moment they''re revealed, the crowd erupts in a mix of cheers and guttural laughter. Refu''s grin widens as he steps closer, towering over the trembling women. "Ah, now this is what I''ve been waiting for. Fresh stock." He chuckles darkly. Alix feels a flicker of something¡ªa distant, fleeting pang of recognition. As a human, at least in his past life. But now, standing among monsters, he feels no pity, no sympathy. The sight stirs nothing in him. He waves a hand dismissively. "Alright, take these two women to my house first." The two gnolls at his side immediately spring into action, grabbing the women by their chains. The women scream, their voices cracking with desperation. "Please! Help us!" One of them wails, her tear-streaked face turning toward Doran and his group. The other woman sobs, her knees buckling as the gnolls drag her forward. "Don''t leave us! Please!" Doran''s jaw tightens, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He keeps his gaze down, his teeth grinding audibly. The merchant shifts uncomfortably, glancing at Doran. "Let it go," he murmurs, barely audible. "We can''t afford a fight here." Refu smirks, clearly enjoying the tension. "Here''s your pay for the women," he says, kicking a small wooden box toward the merchant. "I even went out of my way to find this herb. So rare, I almost gave up." Doran says nothing. He crouches, picks up the wooden box, and tosses it to the merchant without a word. "Move out," Doran orders his group curtly, his voice low and cold. The merchant gives a quick nod, and his workers hurriedly load back onto the wagons. Alix watches from the shadows, his eyes narrowing. The scene plays out like a twisted drama, yet he remains detached, observing every detail. He notes Doran''s clenched fists, the women''s fading cries, and Refu''s triumphant sneer. Chapter 10: Misorn City Once the caravan is a safe distance from the town, the group finally exhales, the oppressive atmosphere of the monster settlement left behind. The creak of wagon wheels fills the silence, but it doesn''t last long. Lina breaks the silence, her voice sharp and filled with frustration. "Doran, are we really just going to turn a blind eye like nothing happened?" Doran keeps his eyes on the road ahead, his expression hard. "We have a job, Lina. That''s all." Tarak growls low in his throat, his grip on the reins tightening. "Captain, I didn''t sign up to deliver people¡ªespecially women¡ªto those beasts. I thought we were better than this." The merchant riding alongside them sighs loudly. "Everyone, calm down. I understand this might not sit well with some of you, but let''s not forget something important: those two women? They''re slaves. And you''re hired adventurers. Your job is to deliver, not question." Lina''s eyes blaze as she whirls on him. "Slaves? Is that supposed to make it better? Being a slave in a human city is one thing, but handing them over to monsters? You know damn well what''ll happen to them!" Her voice rises, trembling with anger. "They''ll be kept as playthings for that filthy orc!" The merchant holds up his hands defensively. "I don''t like it any more than you do, but that''s the reality of this world. We''re not heroes." The merchant adjusts his hat, his voice firm. "And keep in mind, this order came from the city lord, Vylan. You know how things work in Misorn. Lord Vylan rules with an iron grip, and his word is law. If he says jump, we ask how high." Lina''s anger flares again. "Lord Vylan? So, what? Because some corrupt noble says it''s okay, we just go along with it? Do his dirty work without question?" The merchant snaps. "You don''t understand. Misorn thrives on these deals. The city''s entire operation depends on maintaining trade routes like this¡ªgoods, information, and yes, even slaves. Defying Lord Vylan isn''t just reckless; it''s suicide. You think he cares about a couple of adventurers? He''d have us all executed without a second thought." Doran finally speaks, his voice cold and steady. "Enough. What''s done is done. We won''t solve anything here." His eyes flick to Lina, then Tarak. "Focus on the mission. We''re not here to pick fights with the city lords. If you have a problem with the orders, take it up with Vylan when we''re back in Misorn." Lina bites her lip, her frustration clear but says nothing more. Tarak grumbles under his breath, but the weight of Doran''s authority keeps him in check. Back in town. Alix''s sharp eyes catch sight of Gornak with Calak, stands before one of Refu''s lackeys, a scrawny goblin with a crooked grin. Gornak holds a bundle of herbs, his thick fingers tightening around it as he thrusts it forward. "These herbs," Gornak says, his voice rough, "are the same ones I traded last time. I got five gold coins for this amount. Why are you only offering two now?" The goblin snickers, flicking a single coin into the air before catching it and tossing it into Gornak''s hands. "Old bastard, it''s the order of Lord Refu. Prices change. Be thankful I''m giving you anything." Gornak''s eyes narrow, his grip tightening on the remaining herbs. "Two coins for this? That barely covers the time it takes to gather them." The goblin shrugs, leaning lazily against the wall. "Take it or leave it, old man. Complain to Lord Refu if you''ve got a problem. See how far that gets you." Alix stands off to the side, silently observing. His arms are crossed, and a faint smirk plays on his lips. He knows his soldiers well; they won''t let this insult slide. Calak, cloaked in a heavy robe to conceal his true form, shifts slightly. "Hey, little goblin," Calak says, his tone almost mocking, "you should hand over five gold coins now, before I pluck your head from your body." The goblin stiffens, his eyes narrowing. "What did you just say, you robed freak?" He steps forward, his hand reaching for Calak''s hood. "Let''s see who you think you are¡ª" Before the goblin can finish, his head suddenly detaches from his shoulders, rolling to the ground with a dull thud. Blood spurts from his neck, and his body collapses moments later. The silence is deafening. No one even saw Calak move. "What... what just happened?" one of the onlookers mutters, his voice trembling. A murmuring wave spreads through the gathered monsters, their voices low and filled with fear. "No way," a lizardman whispers, his eyes wide. "Someone''s challenging Lord Refu? It''s been years since anyone dared to oppose him." Another monster, a wolfkin, growls nervously. "Whoever this robed figure is, he''s insane. No one defies Refu and lives to tell about it." The tension thickens as two gnoll guards, clad in mismatched armor and wielding crude axes, push through the crowd. Their snarling faces betray their eagerness for bloodshed. "Step aside!" one gnoll barks, his voice guttural. "By order of Lord Refu, anyone who causes trouble dies where they stand!" Calak turns his head slightly toward the approaching gnolls, his movements slow and deliberate. Beneath his hood, his glowing eyes glint ominously. The gnolls charge without hesitation, their axes raised. But before they can even get within striking distance, their bodies jerk violently. In an instant, their heads separate from their shoulders, blood spraying in wide arcs. The crowd gasps in shock as the lifeless bodies hit the ground, their weapons clattering uselessly beside them. A heavy silence falls, broken only by the faint rustle of Calak''s robe as he adjusts his stance. Suddenly, a loud, guttural roar echoes through the air, and the ground trembles beneath their feet. From the direction of the fortress, a towering figure emerges, his crimson eyes blazing with fury. It''s Lord Refu. His massive frame is clad in spiked armor, his orcish features twisted in a snarl of pure rage. Behind him, more guards scramble to keep up, their weapons drawn. Chapter 11: Taking Over The Town It''s Refu. His massive frame is clad in spiked armor, his orcish features twisted in a snarl of pure rage. Behind him, more guards scramble to keep up, their weapons drawn. Refu''s deep voice booms across the square. "Who dares spill blood in my domain?" Calak takes a step forward. His eyes gleam like twin flames beneath the shadow of his hood. As he prepares to wipe out every guard, a calm voice echoes in his mind, halting him mid-stride. "Don''t kill the guards," Alix''s voice resonates. "Just Refu." Calak''s lips curl into a grin. "As you wish, your majesty," he replies silently. In a blur of motion, Calak dashes toward Refu. His speed is unnatural, almost like a ghost cutting through the air. Refu barely has time to widen his eyes in shock before Calak is upon him. The orc lord raises his massive war axe, but it''s futile. At his level¡ªbarely 80¡ªhe might as well be standing still against the overwhelming force of a level 200 warrior. Calak''s blade flashes, slicing through the air with precision and speed that defies comprehension. Refu''s axe never even meets its target. Instead, the orc lord stumbles back, his armor splitting cleanly down the center. A thin line of blood appears across his chest, and for a brief moment, he looks down in disbelief. "No..." Refu growls, his voice faltering. "This... can''t..." The orc lord collapses to his knees, his body trembling. Calak steps closer, his blade resting lightly against Refu''s throat. With a swift motion, Calak''s sword flashes again, and Refu''s head topples from his shoulders, rolling to a stop near the base of his fortress. His body slumps forward, lifeless. The crowd is frozen, too terrified to move or speak. Refu, the once-mighty ruler of the monster town, is dead in mere seconds. Calak steps forward. Slowly, he reaches up and pulls back his hood, revealing his face to the crowd. Gasps ripple through the assembled monsters as his true form is revealed¡ªgrayish-green skin, sharp features, and glowing crimson eyes. The unmistakable aura of power radiates from him. "A hobgoblin..." a trembling lizardman mutters, his voice barely audible. "It''s impossible," another monster whispers, his eyes wide with fear. "No goblin has evolved into a hobgoblin in a thousand years..." The crowd is stunned, some stepping back instinctively. Stories of the last hobgoblin who terrorized the land centuries ago flood their minds¡ªa creature so powerful it nearly brought the great city of Misorn to its knees. Calak surveys them, his gaze cold and unyielding. "Starting today," he declares, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade, "I am the new lord of this town. Under my rule, there will be order." The monsters exchange nervous glances, but none dare to challenge him. The memory of Refu''s swift death and the legends of hobgoblins are more than enough to silence any dissent. One of the bolder monsters, a hulking ogre, takes a hesitant step forward, his voice shaking. "L-Lord... what will you have us do?" "Follow my orders," Calak replies sharply. "This town will no longer operate on fear and greed. Those who work hard will prosper." The crowd murmurs in uncertainty but nods reluctantly, their instincts for survival overriding any thoughts of rebellion. In his mind, Calak hears Alix''s calm voice again. In his mind, Calak hears Alix''s calm voice again. "Good. You''ve done well, Calak. Now, don''t trade the gold coins anymore. Reform this town. Make it a proper place, where trade thrives fairly, and gold coins flow steadily." Calak lowers his head slightly, as if bowing to an unseen presence. "Yes, Your Majesty," he responds silently. "I will carry out your will." He straightens, addressing the crowd once more. "You will follow me, or you will fall. Those who wish to rebuild and thrive, stay. Those who seek chaos and ruin, leave now." The monsters stand in silence, their fear gradually giving way to reluctant acceptance. Calak''s crimson eyes burn brightly as he turns toward Refu''s fortress, his voice carrying an unshakable authority. "This town will be reborn, starting now." --------- Alix is back in the capital city, Alix reclines in a luxurious bathhouse within the palace. Steam rises lazily from the clear, warm water, filling the grand marble room with a comforting haze. The polished stone walls are adorned with golden engravings, and a gentle cascade of water flows from an ornate fountain into the bath. Alix sighs contentedly, leaning back against the edge of the pool. His body sinks deeper into the water, the heat easing away any tension. "This is the life," he murmurs to himself, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. Beyond the heavy wooden doors, his maids wait silently, ready to attend to any request. But for now, Alix relishes the solitude. His voice echoes faintly in the spacious room as he speaks aloud to himself. "It''s good that I''ll have gold coins flowing in soon, even if it''s just a little for now. A steady stream is all I need to get started." His hand idly swirls the water, his expression thoughtful. "Calak has done well. That town... it will thrive under his rule. And as it grows, the coins will accumulate. Slowly but surely, I will revive all my subordinates." Alix leans back against the edge of the bath, letting the warm water soothe him. His thoughts drift for a moment, a mix of plans for the future and the satisfaction of his small but steady progress. After a few more minutes, a soft knock at the door pulls him from his reverie. "Your Majesty, may we enter?" a melodic voice calls from the other side. Alix stiffens slightly, glancing at the heavy doors. He had known this moment would come, but he still feels his face heat up. Taking a deep breath, he forces himself to sit upright, trying to project the regal demeanor expected of a king. "Enter," he calls, his voice steady, though his heart beats faster than he''d like to admit. Chapter 12: Training Area The doors open, and the maids step in. They are exactly as he remembers them from the game¡ªcute monster girls with striking features. One has long, silky hair and fox-like ears that twitch as she moves, while the other has bright scales along her arms, glinting like jewels under the soft light of the room. Both wear elegant maid uniforms tailored to their unique forms, their expressions warm but professional. Alix averts his gaze. ''I really did pick the cutest ones'' he thinks, berating his past self for prioritizing aesthetics over practicality when assigning roles in the game. The fox-eared maid steps forward, her tail swishing slightly behind her. "Your Majesty, we''ve brought fresh towels and your robes. Do you require any additional assistance?" "No, that''s fine," Alix says quickly, waving a hand. After the maids leave, Alix takes a moment to collect himself before heading to his bedroom. The grand hallways of the palace are quiet, the faint glow of enchanted torches lining the walls casting a serene light. As he approaches his bedroom, he notices Draya standing by the door, her expression serious. Draya inclines her head slightly as he draws near. Her blue eyes hold a sharp focus. "Your Majesty, did you enjoy the service of your favorite maids this evening?" Alix stops in his tracks, blinking at her. "Favorite maids? When did I have favorite maids?" "As I recall, Your Majesty, you have often been... attentive to those two. I couldn''t help but notice the way you frequently stared at them." Her words hit Alix like a bolt of lightning. The realization dawns on him, ''It must''ve been back in the game... when I didn''t have anything to do, I''d make my character just... stare at them. Well, as a gamer, that''s normal, right? Staring at sexy NPCs... yeah, that''s totally normal.'' Clearing his throat and forcing a regal air, Alix nods. "Oh, yes, of course. I chose them for a reason. They''re... efficient." She places a hand over her chest and bows gracefully. "As you say, Your Majesty." Alix, feeling a bit awkward, decides to shift the topic. "Anyway, thank you for everything, Draya. You''ve done an excellent job organizing the palace and ensuring things run smoothly." Draya straightens and gives him a faint, proud smile. "Your Majesty, you created me. It is my purpose, my duty, and my honor to serve you. I will continue to ensure all is as you desire." Alix smiles back, feeling a bit more at ease. "I''m glad. Well, I''ll be retiring for the night. Good work, as always, Draya." Draya bows once more, her voice steady. "Rest well, Your Majesty." The next morning, Alix rises early, feeling energized and ready to explore more of his palace. After a light breakfast served in his quarters, he decides it''s time to visit the training grounds. As he steps into the bright morning light, he notices the expansive training area bustling with activity. Soldiers practicing their skills with weapons, spells, and hand-to-hand combat. The clang of swords, the crackle of magic, and the shouts of sparring partners fill the air. Draya appears at his side almost immediately, as if she anticipated his plans. "Your Majesty, the training ground is at its peak activity this time of day. Shall I announce your presence?" Alix shakes his head. "No need. I want to observe first. It''s been a while since I''ve seen a live training session..." Alix steps forward, taking in the scene. He watches as the kobold spars with an hobgoblin, their movements surprisingly coordinated. Nearby, a group of fifty soldiers are practicing formation drills, their discipline reminding Alix of the importance of a well-trained army. Alix''s initial interest in the training quickly fades as he counts the soldiers present. Only a hundred remain, a fraction of what his once-mighty army was. He already knew his forces had dwindled, but seeing it firsthand strikes a bitter chord. His jaw tightens as he mutters under his breath. "Those two idiots... they really got me good." Draya, ever observant, steps closer. "Your Majesty, is something troubling you?" Alix shakes his head, his voice steady despite his frustration. "It''s nothing. Just thinking about how far we''ve fallen... and how far we need to climb back up." Draya tilts her head slightly, her tone measured. "With your leadership, Your Majesty, even a hundred soldiers can become an army to rival nations." He turns abruptly, his expression firm. "I''ll be in my private training area. Make sure I''m not disturbed." Draya bows. "As you command, Your Majesty." Alix strides through the palace halls, making his way to his private training area¡ªa space only he can access. The entrance is concealed behind an unassuming wall, marked by a faint, glowing crest. He places his hand against the symbol, and the stone shifts, revealing a hidden staircase. The air changes as he descends, a mix of cool stone and faint magic lingering in the space. The room opens into a grand chamber, filled with advanced training equipment, enchanted dummies, and intricate magical arrays designed to push even the strongest warrior to their limits. Alix steps inside, his eyes scanning the area. It''s exactly as he remembers it from the game. A slight smirk forms on his lips. "At least this still works perfectly," he mutters. Walking toward the center of the room, he activates one of the training dummies, its form shifting to mimic a towering armored knight. It levels a sword at him, and Alix feels a familiar rush of adrenaline. "Let''s see if I know how to do this," he says, drawing his own weapon A sleek, obsidian blade that radiates a faint crimson aura. It hums in his hand, the weight familiar yet commanding. He swings it once, testing its balance, and feels the raw power of a level 200 weapon. The training dummy adjusts instantly, its aura shifting to match his. Its level 200 designation flickers above its head, and it raises its massive sword in a defensive stance. Chapter 13: Level 200 skills Alix takes a deep breath, stepping into his stance. The moment feels surreal¡ªhis body moves as if it''s been through years of rigorous training, yet he knows this is his first real fight. The dummy charges first, its sword slicing downward with precision. Alix sidesteps with ease, bringing his blade up to parry the next strike. The clash reverberates through the chamber, the force sending a spark of excitement through him. "So, this is what it feels like," he mutters, his movements fluid as he blocks another attack. The dummy follows up with a sweeping strike, aiming for his legs. Alix jumps back, the instincts of a seasoned warrior guiding his every move. Without thinking, he lunges forward, delivering a series of quick slashes. Each strike lands cleanly, leaving glowing marks on the enchanted material of the dummy. "Not bad," Alix says, grinning. "For someone who technically just started." He pulls back, letting the dummy reset its stance. This time, he decides to push harder. Alix switches to offense, his blade a blur as he launches a flurry of attacks. The dummy manages to block most of them but struggles to keep up. "Impressive," he says, stepping back and lowering his blade slightly. "But I''m not done yet." Alix focuses, activating a level 200 skill: Blazing Edge. His sword ignites in crimson flames, the heat radiating through the room. With a powerful swing, he sends a wave of fire toward the dummy. The flames crash into it, forcing the dummy back as its form flickers from the impact. The dummy steadies itself, its defenses adjusting. Alix takes a moment to observe. "Alright, let''s try something stronger." He attempts to activate a skill well above his current level¡ªone he remembers as being devastating in the game. He channels his energy, feeling the power surge through him, but nothing happens. "Huh?" Alix frowns, trying again. A faint glow surrounds him for a moment before dissipating entirely. A message flashes in his vision: Skill Locked. Level Requirement Not Met. "Of course," he mutters, shaking his head. He sighs but quickly refocuses, activating another level 200 skill: Crimson Rift. The energy crackles around his blade before exploding outward in a devastating arc. The attack slams into the dummy, splitting it cleanly in half. As the pieces of the training dummy fall to the ground, Alix lowers his blade, his breathing steady. ------ A few days later, the transformation of the town is already underway. The once-chaotic streets are now filled with the sounds of construction¡ªhammers striking wood, stones being stacked to repair walls, and the rhythmic chants of monsters working together. Under Calak''s stern but fair leadership, order has replaced the previous lawlessness. For the first time in decades, monsters of various races¡ªgoblins, orcs, kobolds, and even ogres¡ªare cooperating. It''s an unprecedented sight, and word of the town''s rebirth spreads quickly across the surrounding region. Among the workers, two orcs haul massive wooden beams toward what will soon be a new marketplace. Among the workers, two orcs haul massive wooden beams toward what will soon be a new marketplace. "What do you think of the new lord?" one orc grunts, adjusting his grip on the beam. The other orc, a burly figure with a scar running down his cheek, pauses for a moment, wiping sweat from his brow. "He''s strong," he says simply. "Stronger than anyone I''ve ever seen." "That much is obvious," the first orc replies with a chuckle. "But what about his vision? Do you really think he can turn this dump into something worth staying in?" The scarred orc''s gaze shifts to the bustling activity around them. Goblins are laying stones for new roads, kobolds are crafting intricate wooden supports, and even a handful of ogres are helping to fortify the town''s outer walls. It''s a sight he never thought he''d see. "I think," the second orc says slowly, "if we stick with him, this town might usher in a new era. Maybe even rival Misorn City one day. Just like in the legends." The first orc raises an eyebrow. "You believe in those old stories? The ones about the hobgoblin who almost toppled the Misorn city?" The second orc smirks. "I didn''t before. But seeing him... seeing how he killed Refu like he was nothing... I think he might actually pull it off." Their conversation is interrupted as Calak himself strides through the worksite, his imposing figure commanding immediate attention. The monsters pause briefly, bowing their heads as he passes. "Get back to work," Calak orders, his tone sharp but not unkind. "The faster this town is rebuilt, the sooner we can secure trade routes and resources." "Yes, Lord Calak!" the workers reply in unison, redoubling their efforts. As Calak continues his inspection, his crimson eyes scan the progress with satisfaction. --- In the Misorn city, Doran''s group returns to the Misorn City after completing their mission. The bustling market streets are alive with the hum of merchants hawking their wares, adventurers bartering for equipment, and nobles inspecting exotic goods. Lina walks alongside the group, her eyes scanning the crowd absentmindedly until something catches her attention. She freezes mid-step, her gaze locking onto a cage on a merchant''s wagon. "Doran," she whispers, her voice filled with disbelief. "Look over there." Doran stops, turning to follow her line of sight. "Isn''t that..." Lina''s voice falters, her eyes narrowing as she takes a closer look. "The women we handed over to Refu?" Doran''s brow furrows. "You''re right. There''s no way Refu would let them go. What the hell are they doing here?" The two exchange a glance before approaching the merchant standing by the cage. Doran steps forward, his tone polite but firm. "Excuse me, merchant. Those two women... can I ask where you got them?" The merchant tenses, his hand immediately moving to draw a cloth over the cage, obscuring the women from view. "I bought them," the merchant replies curtly. "They''re mine now, and I don''t appreciate you sticking your nose where it doesn''t belong. Move along." Chapter 14: A Level 100 Monster? Doran doesn''t budge. Instead, he crosses his arms, tilting his head slightly with a knowing smirk. "Oh really?" he says, his voice laced with mock curiosity. "As far as I know, these two women are Lord Vylan''s slaves. In fact, we were tasked by Lord Vylan himself to deliver them to someone." The merchant stiffens, his hands twitching nervously. Doran leans in slightly, lowering his voice just enough for the merchant to hear. "I wonder why they''re here now, in your possession. Should we ask Lord Vylan about it? I''m sure he''d be very interested to hear how his property ended up back in Misorn." The mention of Vylan''s name visibly shakes the merchant. His face pales, a chill running down his spine. Everyone in the city knows of Vylan''s cruelty and paranoia¡ªbeing on his bad side is a death sentence. "N-No need for that," the merchant stammers, his voice trembling. "I... I just found them wandering outside the city gates. No owners in sight. So, as a merchant, I... I had to pick them up. That''s all." Doran raises an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "Is that so?" "Yes!" the merchant says quickly, his desperation evident. "I didn''t know they were connected to Lord Vylan. Please, take them. I don''t want any trouble." Doran steps back, giving the merchant a long, cold stare before nodding. "Smart choice." The merchant hurriedly unlocks the cage, motioning for the women to step out. They hesitate, but with Doran''s reassuring nod, they climb down. "You''re lucky I''m in a good mood," Doran says, his tone sharp. "But if I ever see you with Lord Vylan''s property again, I won''t be so forgiving." The merchant bows repeatedly, his voice shaking. "Thank you, sir. I promise it won''t happen again!" Doran turns to Lina and the rest of the group, gesturing for them to follow. "Let''s go." As they walk away, Lina leans in and whispers, "That was intense. Do you think he actually believed you?" Doran smirks. "Doesn''t matter. Vylan''s name is enough to scare anyone straight." The two women glance nervously at their saviors but remain silent, their The two women glance nervously at their saviors but remain silent, their expressions a mix of fear and gratitude. Lina sighs softly. "What do we do now?" "We''ll figure it out," Doran replies, his gaze fixed ahead. "But for now, we keep moving. Misorn''s a dangerous place, especially for them." The group disappears into the bustling crowd, leaving the shaken merchant behind. Later, the group secures a quiet room at an inn near the edge of Misorn City. Doran instructs the other three members to leave, leaving only him, Lina, and the two rescued women in the room. The room is simple but clean, with a wooden table in the center and a few chairs. The women sit close together, still tense and wary. Lina moves first, grabbing a loaf of bread and some dried meat from her pack. "You should eat something," Lina says softly, placing the food in front of them. The women hesitate, exchanging a glance before cautiously reaching for the bread. They eat slowly, their movements careful as if expecting the offer to be taken away. Doran leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching them silently. Lina pulls up a chair and sits across from the women, her expression kind but curious. "What are your names?" Lina asks gently. The first woman, a slender figure with tangled blonde hair and bruises on her wrists, looks up hesitantly. "My name is Seria," she says in a voice barely above a whisper. The second woman, taller and with sharp green eyes that contrast her haggard appearance, speaks more firmly. "I''m Mari." As the silence stretches in the room, Lina clears her throat, breaking the tension. Her voice is soft, almost hesitant. "I know you probably hate us for what we did... handing you over to those monsters." Mari shakes her head, her green eyes meeting Lina''s. "We don''t," she says firmly. "Though... we were hoping¡ªpraying¡ªthat someone would save us. When you left, we thought it was the end for us. The things we''ve heard about orcs..." She trails off, her voice trembling. "They say being captured by them is like living in hell." Lina winces, guilt flickering across her face. "What kind of slaves were you?" Lina asks, changing the subject slightly, though her voice is tinged with sadness. Seria speaks this time, her voice quiet and hesitant. "We worked in the mines. It was... exhausting. Day and night, no rest. They didn''t care if we were sick or hurt." Doran, who has been silent, finally steps forward. His voice is low but direct. "How did you manage to flee from that monster?" Mari''s jaw tightens, and she glances at Seria before responding. "We didn''t flee," Mari says, her tone flat. "That orc... he died." The air in the room seems to still, and both Doran and Lina stare at Mari in shock. "He died?" Doran repeats, his voice sharp with disbelief. Seria nods slowly, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and memory. "It was chaos," Mari continues, her tone steady but her expression dark. "He got into a fight with someone¡ªanother monster. I don''t know who or what it was, but they killed him. Slice him apart like he was nothing. We were chained nearby, but when the orc went down, we saw a chance and took it. We broke free and ran." Lina leans forward, her brows furrowed in concern. "Do you know who or what killed him? Could it have been another orc?" Mari shakes her head. "I don''t think so. Whatever it was... it moved too fast, faster than any orc. And it''s wearing a robe, so we can''t even tell what it looks like." Doran exhales deeply, his eyes narrowing as he processes the information. "Something strong enough to take out a level 80 orc." Doran''s thoughts race as he leans against the wall, arms crossed. ''A level 100 monster? The only creatures capable of taking down a level 80 orc easily, would be level 100 or higher.'' Chapter 15: Special Book His gaze shifts back to Mari and Seria, who are both visibly shaken, though their relief at being away from that monster is evident. Lina breaks the silence, her voice low but curious. "Doran, what are you thinking? Do you think it could''ve been... a level 100 monster?" Doran doesn''t answer immediately, his expression unreadable. Finally, he says, "It''s possible. Something that can move faster than an orc and slice through one like it''s nothing isn''t ordinary. If it was level 100 or higher, that explains the speed and power." Lina''s face pales at his words. She leans forward, gripping the edge of the table. "If this is true... isn''t this really bad? The last time a level 100-plus monster emerged, the city almost got destroyed. If another city hadn''t sent someone strong enough to kill it, who knows what would''ve happened." Doran nods slowly, his eyes narrowing. "I''ve heard stories about that. A hobgoblin, wasn''t it? An evolved form of a regular goblin. They said it tore through the city like a storm, faster and smarter than anyone expected." Mari and Seria exchange uneasy glances, the tension in the room thickening. "What if that thing¡ªwhatever killed the orc¡ªis even worse than the hobgoblin?" Lina asks, her voice trembling. Lina sighs, running a hand through her hair. "Then staying here in Misorn is a death sentence. It''s only a matter of time before it causes havoc." "We need to decide what to do¡ªand fast. Misorn isn''t equipped to handle something that powerful. If we stay, we''re putting ourselves at risk." Seria hesitates. "Can we come in with you?" Doran looks at Seria, his expression softening as he leans against the wall. He crosses his arms, his voice calm but resolute. "Of course. We can''t leave you here," he says firmly. "After all, what happened to you is our fault." Mari''s eyes widen in surprise. "Your fault? You didn''t enslave us. You didn''t¡ª" Doran interrupts her with a shake of his head. "We handed you over to that monster, even if it was temporary. Whatever happened after that, we have to take some responsibility. Leaving you here would make us no better than him." Seria''s hands tremble slightly as she clutches the edge of her chair. "Thank you," she whispers, her voice filled with gratitude. "We... we didn''t expect this. We thought we were on our own." Mari exhales, her composure faltering for the first time. "I don''t know how we can repay you, but we''ll do whatever we can to help." ---- Alix steps back, wiping the sweat from his brow. The training room is quiet now, save for the faint hum of dissipating energy. He sheaths his blade, glancing at the glowing marks left on the floor from his final strike. "Not bad," he says to himself, a small smile tugging at his lips. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before deciding on his next move. The system''s integration feature was clear¡ªto bring monsters into his fold and make them part of his kingdom, they needed to willingly write their names in the special book bound to the system. And for that, he''d need Calak''s help. "Time to head back to the town," Alix mutters, stepping out of the training room. After a few minutes of walking, Alix arrives at the town, his royal guard¡ªa lizardman in disguise as a regular monster¡ªfollowing closely behind. The transformation before him takes him by surprise. In just a few days, the once-chaotic settlement had turned into a thriving hub of activity. The streets were cleaner, the buildings sturdier, and the monsters more organized than he''d ever seen before. Alix mutters under his breath. "In just a few days, they''ve really made this place better." Soon, they reach the modest but well-kept building where Calak resides. Alix had contacted him earlier through a communication item since the system''s telepathy didn''t work over long distances. When Calak learned of Alix''s impending arrival, he insisted on preparing a grand welcome, but Alix rejected the idea. As Alix approaches the building, he sees Calak waiting outside. True to form, Calak kneels as soon as Alix steps within view. "Welcome, Your Majesty," Calak says, his deep voice carrying respect and a touch of pride. "Do you have any orders for me?" Alix steps forward, raising a hand. "Rise, Calak. There''s no need for formalities right now. Let''s talk inside." Calak nods, rising to his full height, and gestures for Alix to follow him inside. Inside, Calak pulls out a chair for Alix before taking a seat across from him, his crimson eyes gleaming with anticipation. "What brings you here, Your Majesty?" Alix pulls out a neatly folded piece of paper and places it on the table. "I need your help with this," he says, pushing the book toward Calak. Alix sits across from Calak, the book resting on the table between them. He looks at the hobgoblin, his expression serious yet calm. "Calak, I need you to make sure that every monster in the town writes their name on this book. It''s part of becoming a real, permanent citizen of the town. Without this, they won''t be considered part of my kingdom." Calak said, "It''s easy enough, Your Majesty. I can gather them and get this done. But, is there anything else you need me to do while I''m at it?" Alix shakes his head, his voice steady. "No, that''s all. Just get them to write their names, and the process will be complete. I''ll be waiting here when you return." Calak''s heart swells with excitement. As a regular guard, he never imagined he would have the chance to speak directly with His Majesty. In the game, anyone who was part of Alix''s kingdom viewed him as a god, a being of immense power. And now, here in the real world, nothing has changed. To be trusted with such an important task¡ªit feels like a dream come true for Calak. Alix watches as Calak exits, filled with determination. For Calak, it''s a day he''ll never forget¡ªa day he''s no longer just a guard. Chapter 16: The Three Kingdoms A few minutes later, the door opens, and Calak strides back in, his chest puffed with pride. His crimson eyes gleam with excitement as he holds the book close to his chest. "It''s done, Your Majesty," Calak announces, standing straight. "Three hundred monsters have written their names in the book." Alix said. "Three hundred already? That''s a good turnout. You''ve done well, Calak." Calak bows deeply, his voice steady but filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Your Majesty. It''s an honor to serve you." Alix stands and walks over to him, taking the book for a moment to inspect it. The system''s interface overlays the names, marking them as officially registered citizens. He smiles faintly, satisfied with the progress. "Well done," Alix says, handing the book back. "I''ll leave this with you. If anyone else decides to write their name, let them. The more citizens we have, the stronger the kingdom will become." Calak grips the book tightly, nodding with determination. "Understood, Your Majesty. I won''t let you down." "I know you won''t," Alix replies. He places a reassuring hand on Calak''s shoulder before turning to leave. "I''ll return to the palace. Keep up the good work." "Yes, Your Majesty!" Calak says, watching in awe as Alix departs. Back at the palace, Alix sits on his throne in the grand yet quiet throne room. His eyes flicker as he pulls up his status screen, the glowing interface only visible to him. The numbers bring a small smile to his face. Citizen Count: 400 Next Level Unlock: Need 500 Citizens Current Level: 200 "Just one hundred more," he mutters, leaning back. "And I''ll reach level 300. Still a long way to go to max out at 1000, but... progress is progress." He closes the screen, resting his chin on his hand. It''s a slow process, but seeing the numbers grow¡ªit''s worth it. As Alix studies his status screen, the faintest ripple of movement in the shadows of the throne room catches his attention. A figure emerges, cloaked in darkness, their presence silent but commanding. One of the Shadows, kneels before him. "Your Majesty," the figure says, their voice low and steady. "I am here to report." Alix leans forward on his throne. "Go ahead." The Shadow doesn''t lift their head as they begin. "After your orders to tail the humans, Your Majesty, we followed their trail to a city not far from the forest. The city is called Misorn, and it is governed by a corrupt noble named Vylan." Alix''s gaze sharpens slightly at the mention of the name. "Vylan? What do you mean by ''corrupt''?" The Shadow nods slightly. "Reports from the city''s residents indicate he exploits his position for personal gain. He levies heavy taxes on the populace, hoards resources meant for the city''s defense, and turns a blind eye to criminal activities in exchange for bribes. Many in Misorn despise him, but his authority remains unchallenged due to his ties to the kingdom." Alix rests his chin on his hand, deep in thought. "And this kingdom? What did you learn about it?" The Shadow hesitates for a moment before continuing. "The city of Misorn is part of the Kingdom of Raltheon. Raltheon is currently stable, but its borders are vulnerable. They rely heavily on smaller cities like Misorn to act as buffer zones. However, with someone like Vylan in charge, Misorn''s defenses are... inadequate at best." The Shadow shifts slightly, reaching into their cloak. "There''s more, Your Majesty. We recovered this." They present a worn but detailed map, carefully folded. "It appears to be a map of the region. It may provide useful insights." Alix takes the map and unfolds it, studying it intently. His sharp eyes scan every detail, noting the locations of cities, borders, and marked landmarks. After a few moments, he leans back. "There are three kingdoms shown on this map," he says, pointing to the territories. "Raltheon here, the Kingdom of Ordeya to the west, and the Kingdom of Valgros to the north." The Shadow nods. "Yes, Your Majesty. Ordeya appears to be a merchant kingdom, known for trade and wealth. Valgros, however, is described as a militaristic state with strong fortifications and a focus on conquest." Alix taps the map thoughtfully. "This can''t be the whole map of this world. The borders feel incomplete, as if there''s more beyond these kingdoms. But it''s a start." He folds the map neatly and hands it back to the Shadow. "Take this with you and continue gathering intelligence. I want to know more about Ordeya and Valgros¡ªtheir rulers, their strengths, their weaknesses. Leave no detail unnoticed." The Shadow bows deeply. "As you command, Your Majesty." The Shadow vanishes back into the darkness, leaving Alix alone in the throne room. He leans back in his seat, tapping his fingers on the armrest as he processes the information. After a moment, he lets out a low hum. He pauses, his thoughts shifting. "I guess I should visit that guy in the dungeon." Alix rises from his throne, his expression sharpening with determination. His mind drifts to the powerful subordinate who has remained in confinement since their arrival in this world¡ªa being more terrifying than any of the Five Lords under his command. "I hope he''s still there," Alix mutters to himself as he strides down the grand hall of his palace. "The world boss itself. The one I obtained after that chaotic raid." He recalls the event vividly: five million players swarming to defeat the monstrous entity, and only twenty lucky individuals managing to claim him as a drop. Alix was among them. Even now, the thought fills him with a sense of pride. "This subordinate is stronger than any of the five Lords," Alix muses, his steps echoing in the empty halls. "Even with the Hellfire Edge, I''d only have a fifty percent chance of beating him in a one-on-one fight," Alix mutters under his breath. His steps slow as he approaches the enormous door leading to the dungeon. It towers over him, carved with intricate runes that pulse faintly with a blood-red glow. Chapter 17: Kaelthar The air around it is heavy, oppressive, as though the door itself resents being opened. Two gargoyle-like creatures stand motionless on either side, their glowing eyes fixed forward, waiting for a command. Alix places his hand on the door, and the runes flare brighter, recognizing their master. With a low rumble, the door begins to part, revealing a swirling crimson vortex that serves as the entrance to the dungeon. As he passes through the vortex, the scene changes entirely. The air grows dry and thick with heat, the ground beneath his feet rough and cracked like dried blood. The sky above is a haunting red, dominated by a massive, unblinking eyeball that hovers like a moon, its gaze fixed upon everything at once. "It never gets less unsettling," Alix mutters, his eyes narrowing at the grotesque moon-like eyeball. It seems to pulse faintly, almost as if acknowledging his arrival. "Even the sky here feels like it''s watching." Ahead lies a massive fortress-like structure carved from blackened stone. Its spires twist unnaturally toward the crimson sky, and at its base stands another enormous door, this one covered in pulsating veins of dark energy. Alix strides toward it without hesitation, his boots crunching against the brittle ground. When he reaches the door, it responds to his presence, the veins retracting and the stone parting with an ear-splitting groan. Beyond the door is a massive chamber, illuminated by an eerie red light. But instead of the ominous dungeon you would expects, the scene inside is startlingly different. The chamber is lavish, almost surreal in its opulence. Plush crimson carpets cover the ground, and ornate black-and-gold furnishings line the walls. Chandeliers made of glowing red crystals hang from the high ceiling, casting a soft, otherworldly glow over everything. The air is filled with the faint scent of incense, rich and intoxicating. At the center of the room is an enormous, canopied bed draped in dark silks. Lounging lazily on the bed is a strikingly handsome humanoid man with long, flowing black hair that shimmers faintly like scales in the light. His eyes are a piercing gold, slitted like a predator''s, and his smile is sharp and knowing. This is Kaelthar, Alix''s most powerful subordinate, an ancient evil dragon currently taking his humanoid form. Two humanoid monster maids attend to him, one feeding him grapes while the other pours crimson wine into a crystal goblet. Both are impeccably dressed in maid outfits that somehow manage to blend elegance and menace, their demonic features softened but still visible¡ªhorns curling gracefully and tails swishing idly behind them. As Alix steps deeper into the room, Kaelthar''s posture shifts immediately. He rises from the bed with a fluid motion, his gold eyes locking onto Alix''s. "Your Majesty," Kaelthar says, his voice filled with deep respect, almost exaggerated in its formality. He kneels before Alix, lowering his head with a dramatic flourish. "You honor me with your presence." Alix stops in his tracks, his brow furrowing slightly. He crosses his arms, watching Kaelthar with an unamused expression. "Why are you acting like you didn''t sense my presence the moment I stepped into your dungeon?" he asks flatly. Kaelthar freezes, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. His gaze flickers for a brief moment, and he straightens up, looking slightly embarrassed. "Ah, well... you see, Your Majesty, I was... preoccupied," he says, his tone a bit awkward. Alix doesn''t respond immediately, merely observing the dragon''s discomfort. There''s no real anger in his gaze¡ªKaelthar''s willful personality is something Alix is well aware of, as it aligns perfectly with his in-game character traits. Kaelthar has always been fiercely loyal, but his lack of concern for the world and his own freedom often leads to moments like this. "It''s fine," Alix says after a moment, shrugging off the slight disruption. Kaelthar lets out a small, relieved chuckle, but there''s no mistaking the genuine respect he holds for Alix. He stands fully now, his imposing form towering over the smaller figure of his master. His golden eyes are filled with admiration, yet they also have that same detached look¡ªlike he doesn''t much care for the world outside of Alix''s influence. Alix tilts his head slightly, eyeing Kaelthar as he asks, "Do you still can''t get out of the city? Even in this new world?" Kaelthar''s expression shifts, a subtle frustration clouding his usually calm demeanor. "I still can''t," he confirms, his tone measured but tinged with resignation. "I tried, you know, when you were still asleep. I thought maybe if I flew high enough, I could break through it. But no. An invisible barrier stops me every time, like it always has. It''s frustrating, but..." He pauses, his lips curling into a half-smile, "I''ve grown used to it." "Well," Alix says aloud, "it''s not like I ever relied on you for invasions. Defending the city suits you better." Kaelthar grins, his sharp teeth glinting faintly. "Defending is far less tedious," he says, his tone light. "Why would I want to leave this city anyway? Everything I need is here. Good wine, loyal servants, and,"¡ªhe gestures lazily around the room¡ª"this cozy little palace of mine." Alix smirks at Kaelthar''s nonchalance, shaking his head slightly. ''I guess I should thank the devs for making this guy like this,'' he thinks. Fiercely loyal yet entirely content within his boundaries¡ªKaelthar''s personality, no matter how carefree, is perfect for his role. He stays for a few more minutes, exchanging casual remarks with the dragon, who seems in no hurry to see him go. When Alix finally rises to leave, Kaelthar gives him a playful bow. "Don''t stay away too long, Your Majesty," Kaelthar says, his golden eyes glinting with mirth. "The capital can get rather dull without you." "I''ll manage," Alix replies dryly before stepping back through the massive door. But instead of heading to his throne room or office, Alix veers toward the palace gates. The guards bow as he passes, their gazes filled with respect, but Alix waves them off before they can speak. He walks past the towering walls of the city, as he exits the capital alone. Chapter 18: Found A Cave The air is cool and fresh, carrying the earthy scent of the surrounding wilderness. Outside the city, the landscape stretches into a vast expanse of trees and mountains, untouched and tranquil. Alix pauses to take in the scenery. "Just trees and mountains as far as the eye can see," he murmurs. He opens his inventory, scrolling through his arsenal of items. His gaze lands on a pair of shimmering black wings with intricate silver etchings¡ªan item he hadn''t used in ages. Equipping them, he feels a faint hum of energy as the wings materialize on his back. With a few experimental flaps, he takes to the sky, albeit slowly. "Guess it''s a good thing I didn''t scrap these," he says to himself, chuckling. "The best decision of my life to hold on to all those ''useless'' items." The wings feel different now, less of a luxury and more of a necessity. His level is locked, preventing him from using his natural ability to fly, but the items in his arsenal¡ªonce mere trophies of past exploits¡ªare now invaluable tools in this new reality. As he soars over the forest, the morning light filters through the dense canopy below, casting shifting patterns of gold and green. The wind rushes past him, cool and invigorating. For a moment, he allows himself to enjoy the freedom of flight, the capital shrinking in the distance behind him. After a while, something catches his eye¡ªa dark opening nestled in the side of a rocky mountain. A cave. He hovers above it, tilting his head in curiosity. "It''d be good if this is a mine or something," he muses aloud, descending toward the entrance. Landing softly on the rocky ground, Alix folds the wings back into his inventory. The cave''s mouth looms before him, dark and uninviting. A faint draft carries the scent of damp stone and minerals, confirming that it does lead deeper underground. Alix stands at the entrance of the cave, staring into its shadowy depths. He crosses his arms, tapping a finger against his elbow as he thinks. "Should I go in?" he mutters, his voice echoing faintly against the rocky walls. The cool breeze from the cave brushes past him, carrying with it the faint promise of something unknown. He smirks, his crimson eyes gleaming in the dim morning light. "I''m prepared enough," he decides. "Even if there''s a level 800 waiting in there, I can retreat without a scratch." His confidence isn''t unfounded. Years of experience as both an adventurer and a king have sharpened his instincts. Alix takes a step forward, then pauses. A flicker of excitement rises within him, and he can''t help but laugh quietly to himself. "This feels just like the old days," he murmurs. "Back when I was just a wandering adventurer. Grinding levels, exploring caves, finding treasures... all before I can build a kingdom." The memory is oddly comforting, and for the first time in a while, Alix feels a genuine thrill, being out here, in the wild, facing the unknown¡ªit feels raw, unpredictable. And he likes it. Alix steps into the cave, his boots crunching softly against the uneven ground. The faint glow of his orb illuminates only a small radius around him, leaving most of the cavern shrouded in darkness. He pauses, opening his inventory and scrolling through the countless items he''s amassed over his adventures. "Where is it..." he mutters, his eyes scanning quickly. "Ah, there you are." He selects an item¡ªa small, unassuming crystal orb with intricate carvings. The moment he activates it, the orb floats out of his hand and hovers above his head. It emits a brilliant, golden light that floods the cave, banishing the shadows and making the surroundings as bright as daytime. "Much better," he says with a satisfied nod, taking a moment to admire the illuminated cavern. Streaks of minerals glint in the light, and the rough, jagged walls take on an almost otherworldly beauty. He presses onward, his steps steady and deliberate. The silence is almost unnerving; no creatures stir, no sounds echo back except the soft scuff of his boots. "Not a single enemy," Alix remarks under his breath. The cave widens as he continues, and soon, he finds himself standing at the entrance to a massive chamber. His eyes widen slightly as he takes in the sight. The walls are lined with gleaming veins of minerals¡ªgold, silver, and even rarer metals he can''t immediately identify. The floor is uneven but glittering with fragments of gems scattered like shards of glass. "Is this... all minerals?" he says aloud, his voice echoing faintly in the vast chamber. He steps closer to one of the walls, running his fingers along a vein of gold embedded in the rock. "This... this could be worth a fortune," he mutters, his lips curling into a small, incredulous smile. "If I had found a place like this back in the game, it would''ve been an absolute jackpot." Alix turns, letting his gaze sweep over the chamber again. "So much potential," he muses. "I could turn this into a mine for the city. The resources here would be invaluable." Suddenly, a rushing sound fills the air, echoing through the chamber like a distant waterfall. Alix freezes, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword. The sound grows louder, accompanied by faint skittering noises that seem to come from every direction. "What the...?" he mutters, his crimson eyes scanning the room. Then he sees it¡ªa pile of monster bones tucked into a corner, partially hidden behind a cluster of jagged rocks. His eyes narrow. "Figures," he mutters. "This place was too perfect to be unguarded." Before he can inspect further, the skittering becomes a cacophony. From the dark holes lining the walls and ceiling, spider-like beasts begin to pour out. Their black, chitinous bodies glint in the light of his floating orb, and their glowing red eyes lock onto him. One, two, ten... no, at least a hundred of them. "Really?" Alix says, raising an eyebrow as he pulls up the system interface. He glances at their levels¡ªaround 50. Chapter 19: Arachne A grin spreads across his face. "Level 50? That''s it? A hundred level 50s might look intimidating, but against me?" He shakes his head, drawing his sword with a smooth, deliberate motion. "Even if there were a thousand of you, it wouldn''t matter," he says, his voice calm and confident. "But I''ll admit, it''s been a while since I had a proper warm-up." Alix takes a deep breath and activates his first tier 2 skill, Iron Vanguard. A faint silver aura surrounds him, hardening his muscles and skin. His body feels like a fortress, unyielding and indomitable. "Let''s start with a solid defense. Can''t have you scratching my skin." The spiders screech, their limbs clattering against the stone as they charge toward him. "Next, Raging Force," Alix mutters, activating the second skill. A rush of power courses through him, doubling his physical strength. His grip tightens on his sword, the weapon feeling lighter in his hands. The swarm closes in, but Alix remains calm, activating his third skill, Blinding Reflexes. His vision sharpens, and time seems to slow around him. The erratic movements of the spider monsters are now predictable, their every lunge and twitch easily tracked. A spider leaps from the ceiling, aiming straight for his back. Without even looking, Alix pivots and slices it in half mid-air. "One down." As more of them close in, he activates his fourth skill, Endless Stamina. A wave of energy floods his body, erasing any sense of fatigue. The final skill, Titan''s Grip, comes next. His sword glows faintly, and he feels its weight increase, matching his enhanced strength. Each swing now carries devastating power, capable of cleaving through multiple enemies in a single strike. The first wave of spiders reaches him, and Alix moves. His sword becomes a blur as he slices through the horde with precision and efficiency. Chitin shatters, and monsters screech as they fall, their black blood splattering the chamber floor. A spider lunges for his legs, but Alix sidesteps and brings his blade down, splitting it cleanly in two. Another tries to flank him, but with his reflexes heightened, he spins and decapitates it in one fluid motion. "Damn, this is nice," he said. "Though it''s my first time killing something, I didn''t feel anything at all." The monsters press harder, swarming from all sides. Alix leaps into the air, avoiding a coordinated attack, and slams back down with enough force to send a shockwave rippling through the ground. Several spiders are thrown back, their legs snapping under the impact. As the horde begins to thin, Alix stands tall, his aura still shimmering around him. His breathing is steady, his movements unrelenting. The last spider hesitates, its red eyes flickering as if debating whether to attack. Alix points his blade at it. "Go ahead. Don''t be shy." The spider screeches and charges, but Alix doesn''t let it get close. With a single swing, he bisects it, the creature collapsing in a heap. The cavern falls silent, save for the distant drip of water and the faint hum of his buffs still active. Sheathing his sword, Alix looks around at the carnage. The floor is littered with monster remains, the once-glimmering chamber now a battlefield. "That was... fun," he says, cracking his neck. Before Alix can savor his victory, a voice echoes through the chamber. "You are strong. Who are you? I''ve never seen or heard of you. Are you a new monster king?" Alix''s hand instinctively moves to his sword hilt as his eyes dart toward the source of the voice. From above, descending gracefully on a thin, glistening thread of silk, a figure emerges. It''s an Arachne¡ªa humanoid upper body of a woman with pale skin and long, silvery hair, seamlessly merging into the sleek, chitinous body of a spider. Her crimson eyes glow faintly in the dim light, and her body is covered in a sheen of minerals embedded in her carapace. Alix''s eyes narrow as he opens the system interface, scanning her. "Level 205," he mutters under his breath, his tension easing. "Not a threat." He straightens, meeting her gaze. "Yeah, I''m new," he says, his tone casual but laced with curiosity. "I take it you''re not too used to strangers wandering into your little domain?" The Arachne cocks her head, studying him with a mix of caution and intrigue. "Strangers rarely survive the spiders," she replies, her voice smooth and calm. "But you... you didn''t just survive. You slaughtered them with ease." His gaze drifts to her body, noticing the shimmering minerals embedded across her limbs and torso. They''re the same as the ones lining the cavern walls. A thought strikes him. "By the way... Have you been eating the ores in this cave?" The Arachne''s eyes narrow slightly, but she doesn''t deny it. "I have. These minerals are rich in mana and energy. Consuming them allows me to evolve... to become stronger." Alix crosses his arms, his crimson eyes glinting with amusement. "Stronger, huh? Seems like a waste to me. All that potential, just for a little growth?" The Arachne''s expression darkens, her tone defensive. "What would you know of my struggle? Survival in this forest demands strength. Without it, I would have been devoured long ago." Alix shrugs, his voice calm but firm. "Fair enough. But I didn''t come here to leave empty-handed." He gestures to the mineral-laden walls around them. "This place? I''ve already claimed it. And I''m not about to let it be devoured by anyone else." The Arachne''s eyes flash with anger, her voice rising. "You are a bold one to declare ownership of what is mine." She takes a step forward, her movements deliberate and sharp. "If you want this place, then you must kill me first. I will avenge my children by ending your life." The Arachne snarls, her crimson eyes glowing brighter. Without another word, she lunges at him, her clawed hands slashing through the air with deadly speed. Her movements are fluid, and the minerals embedded in her body shimmer with each strike, amplifying her strength and durability. Chapter 20: Nyssara Alix draws his sword in a blur, deflecting her attack with ease. The force of her strike reverberates through the cavern, sending small rocks tumbling from the walls. "Not bad," he says, his tone almost playful. "But you''ll need more than flashy moves to touch me." The Arachne doesn''t respond, instead spinning a thick web to anchor herself to the ceiling. She leaps back, her hands moving rapidly as she weaves the silk into sharp, spear-like projectiles. With a flick of her wrist, she sends them hurtling toward Alix. "Creative," Alix mutters, activating Blinding Reflexes. Time seems to slow as the spears approach. He sidesteps the first, slices through the second, and lets the third shatter harmlessly against his aura. "But predictable." Before she can launch another attack, Alix closes the distance between them in a single bound. His blade arcs toward her, aiming for her exposed torso. The Arachne reacts quickly, twisting her body to avoid a fatal blow. The tip of his sword grazes her chitin, leaving a deep scratch that glows faintly. The Arachne screeches in pain, stumbling back as her crimson eyes lock onto Alix. Her fear is unmistakable now, her earlier confidence crumbling. In that brief exchange, she understands the terrifying gap in their power. Alix, unfazed, adjusts his grip on his sword, his expression calm but deadly. "Ready for round two?" he asks, stepping forward. But before he can strike again, the Arachne raises a trembling hand, her voice breaking. "Wait! I admit defeat! Please... stop!" Alix halts mid-step, his sword hovering inches from his side. He blinks, confused. "What? Already? We just started fighting." The Arachne lowers herself cautiously, her eight legs folding under her as she presses her humanoid upper body closer to the ground¡ªa gesture of submission. "I underestimated you," she says, her voice shaking. "You''re not just strong. You''re... overwhelming. There''s no point in continuing this fight. I can''t win." Alix narrows his eyes, studying her carefully. He doesn''t lower his sword. "So, what? You''re giving up just like that? No vengeance for your kids? No desperate last stand?" He tilts his head, a mocking edge creeping into his voice. "That''s kind of disappointing." The Arachne flinches but holds her ground. "I only fought because I thought I had a chance. But now I see... you''re not just another invader. You''re a monster beyond anything I''ve encountered before." She takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "If I continue, it will only mean my death. My children... they''re already gone. Fighting for revenge won''t bring them back." Alix lowers his sword slightly, his crimson eyes glinting with thought. Then, an idea strikes him, and a sly grin spreads across his face. "Fine," he says, his voice cutting through the silence. "If you admit defeat, then prove it." He gestures toward her with the tip of his blade. "Submit to me." The Arachne''s crimson eyes widen in shock, her entire body going still. "W-what?" she stammers, her voice laced with disbelief. "You heard me," Alix replies, his tone cold and commanding. He doesn''t elaborate or try to persuade her. Instead, he crosses his arms and waits, his imposing aura filling the cavern. The Arachne stares at him, torn between her pride and her survival instinct. Her claws dig into the ground as she struggles with the decision. "You want me... to serve you?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. The Arachne''s gaze drops to the ground, her pride and anger warring against her fear and logic. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she lowers herself fully, bending her humanoid upper body forward. Her arms stretch out before her, and her spider legs fold beneath her in a deep, submissive bow. "I... I swear my loyalty to you," she says, her voice trembling but resolute. "From this day forward, I will serve you, my master." Alix watches her kneel, satisfaction flickering in his crimson eyes. He steps closer, towering over her as she takes her oath. "That''s the greatest decision you''ve ever made in your life," he says, his tone both confident and final. "Serve me well, and you might just live to see something greater than this cave." The Arachne looks up at him, her expression a mix of submission and lingering unease. "What... do you ask of me, master?" A glimmer of satisfaction flickers in his eyes as he takes in the scene. "Before we get to business, I should probably ask..." He gestures toward her with a casual wave of his hand. "What''s your name?" The Arachne looks up cautiously, her crimson eyes meeting his. "My name is Nyssara," she says softly. "Nyssara, huh?" Alix repeats, letting the name roll off his tongue. "Alright, Nyssara, let''s get to it. How exactly do you mine all these minerals?" Nyssara straightens slightly, her confidence slowly returning now that her life is no longer on the line. "I have a special subordinate for that, master. They are adept at extracting the minerals efficiently." "Subordinate?" Alix raises an eyebrow. "Show me." Nyssara nods and lets out a sharp clicking sound, a signal that echoes through the cavern. Moments later, a group of spider monsters skitters out from the shadows. Unlike the aggressive ones Alix had cut down earlier, these spiders are smaller, with oddly shaped forelimbs that resemble crude but functional pickaxes. Their black, chitinous bodies glisten faintly in the light as they approach and bow slightly before Nyssara. Alix stares at them for a moment, then smirks. "Oh, that''s convenient," he says, crossing his arms. "Built-in tools? I''ll admit, that''s pretty efficient." Nyssara nods, gesturing toward the walls. "They''ve been trained to mine the minerals veins without waste. It is how I''ve sustained myself and grown stronger over the years." "Good," Alix says, his smirk widening. "I''ll leave the mining to you and your little crew, then. But listen carefully, Nyssara." He steps closer, his crimson eyes locking onto hers. "There will be soldiers coming here later. They''ll be guarding this place, and they are a lot stronger than you. So don''t even think about doing anything funny. Got it?" Chapter 21: Nyssara Arrive At The Capital City (part 1) Nyssara nods stiffly, lowering her gaze to the ground. "I understand, master. I wouldn''t dare to disobey." "Perfect," Alix says, his tone calm but with an edge of authority. He turns on his heel, his coat swaying as he strides toward the cave entrance. "Get to work. When I return, I expect progress." Alix gives her one last lingering look, as if testing her resolve, before turning on his heel and striding out of the cavern. The sound of his footsteps fades into the distance, leaving Nyssara alone with her thoughts and her spider minions. Once she''s certain he''s gone, Nyssara lets out a low hiss, her claws digging into the ground. "That''s nonsense," she mutters under her breath. "How can his subordinates be stronger than me? I''ve ruled these caves for decades. No one has ever bested me... until him." She clicks her mandibles in irritation and glances at her spider minions, already busy chiseling away at the mineral veins. "Faster!" she barks, her frustration evident. "We need results before his so-called ''soldiers'' arrive." The spider monsters scurry into action, their pickaxe limbs striking the mineral veins with practiced precision. The cavern fills with the rhythmic clinking of metal against stone as Nyssara watches, her mind racing. She''s not used to taking orders, and the thought of being reduced to a mere miner grates on her. But the memory of Alix''s overwhelming power keeps her in check¡ªfor now. An hour passes, and the spiders have already amassed a small pile of gold and other valuable minerals. Nyssara inspects their work, her crimson eyes narrowing as she calculates how much more they''ll need to satisfy Alix''s demands. But just as she''s about to give new orders, she feels a faint disturbance in the air. Then, suddenly, the near-invisible thread Nyssara had placed at the cave''s entrance vibrates faintly, signaling an intruder. Her eyes narrow, and she straightens her posture, brushing dust off her chitinous arms. "That must be the soldiers he mentioned," she murmurs, her voice low. "Let''s see what kind of fools he''s sent to guard me." Confident in her own strength, Nyssara strides toward the entrance, her eight legs moving with fluid grace. She prepares to greet the newcomers with the same arrogance she once wielded as the ruler of these caves. But as she rounds the corner and sees the figures standing at the entrance, her smirk fades, replaced by a deep, sinking feeling. Three soldiers stand before her, each radiating an aura of power that makes her chitinous skin crawl. On the left is a kobold, its reptilian eyes gleaming with cunning and its lithe body coiled like a spring. On the right is a gnoll, its hulking frame bristling with muscle and its jagged teeth bared in a predatory grin. But it''s the figure in the center that sends a shiver down Nyssara''s spine¡ªa towering troglodyte, its scaly skin glistening with an unnatural sheen and its cold gaze fixed on her. Its scales shimmer faintly in the dim light, and its piercing yellow eyes seem to see straight through her. It wears armor that looks both ancient and deadly, and the aura it radiates is suffocating¡ªa chilling reminder of the dread she felt when she first faced Alix. For a moment, Nyssara can''t speak. The weight of the troglodyte''s presence presses down on her, and the confidence she had earlier crumbles. Even being referred to as a mere "miner" doesn''t ignite her usual prideful anger. Instead, she bows her head slightly, her voice steady but submissive. "Yes, I am. I... I''ve already mined some gold and other resources for him." The troglodyte steps forward, its piercing gaze locking onto Nyssara. "What about this," it says in a gravelly voice, gesturing to the pile of minerals behind her. "You deliver this to the city yourself. His Majesty wishes to see you." Nyssara blinks, startled. She hadn''t expected such a request, and her mandibles twitch nervously. A question rises in her throat, but she quickly swallows it, wary of offending the intimidating creature before her. Noticing her hesitation, the troglodyte adds, "It''s simple. Follow the markings on the trees outside. They''ll lead you directly to the city. You won''t get lost." "Understood. I''ll leave immediately." The Troglodyte nods curtly. "Good. Don''t waste time. His Majesty doesn''t like delays." Nyssara gives a shallow bow, her voice quiet but steady. "I won''t." Without further words, she turns and begins to organize the minerals, instructing her spider minions to bundle them efficiently. As she prepares to leave, her eyes flick briefly to the troglodyte and its companions. The gnoll smirks at her, while the kobold simply watches with sharp eyes. As soon as she''s ready, Nyssara gathers the minerals into a web-silk pack on her back and heads toward the cave''s exit. Nyssara tightens her grip on the silk threads holding her pack in place. Her eight legs carry her swiftly across the forest floor, her eyes scanning the trees for the markings the troglodyte mentioned. Each symbol is carved deep into the bark, guiding her like a silent compass. While walking, Nyssara''s mind is a whirlwind of thoughts. "Who is he?" she murmurs, her voice barely audible over the rustling leaves. "How can he command creatures like those three? That troglodyte alone... it felt like facing him all over again." Her claws flex instinctively as she recalls the suffocating aura of the soldiers, each one as formidable as her, if not more so. The forest grows denser as she follows the markings, her unease deepening with every step. It doesn''t take long before she reaches a clearing, and her legs falter. Nyssara''s eyes widen, and for a moment, she can''t move. Before her stands a city, but it''s unlike anything she had imagined. She expected a fledgling settlement, a hastily constructed fortress at best. Instead, towering walls rise before her, their sheer size and craftsmanship radiating an ancient, almost divine majesty. The stone gleams faintly in the sunlight, etched with intricate carvings that seem to tell stories of a civilization long past. "The wall alone..." Nyssara whispers, her voice trembling. "This city¡ªit''s as if it''s been here for a hundred thousand years." Chapter 22: Meeting The Real King A voice booms from above, startling her out of her reverie. "Who are you?" Nyssara''s eyes snap upward, and her breath catches. A guard stands atop the wall, clad in gleaming armor that exudes power. Even from this distance, she can feel his strength¡ªa presence equal to her own. "Even the guards..." she mutters, disbelief lacing her voice. "They''re as strong as me." Swallowing her pride, Nyssara straightens herself, raising her voice to be heard. "I am here by the order of... His Majesty," she calls out, her tone firm but respectful. "I''ve come to deliver these minerals." There''s a moment of silence, the guard scrutinizing her from his lofty perch. Then, with a low groan, a smaller gate embedded within the towering wall creaks open, revealing a narrow path leading into the city. "Enter," the guard commands, his voice devoid of warmth. Nyssara hesitates, her legs rooted to the ground. The enormity of what lies ahead presses down on her, but she forces herself to move. She steps through the gate, her silk pack of minerals weighing heavily on her back. As soon as Nyssara steps inside, she stops in her tracks, her eyes widening in awe. The air feels different here¡ªcharged, almost sacred. The polished streets shimmer faintly, that seems both eternal and unnatural. Grand arches and towering spires surround her, their designs intricate and otherworldly, as though crafted by divine hands. "It feels like..." Nyssara whispers, her voice trembling, "I''ve stepped onto the land of gods." She takes a cautious step forward, her claws clicking softly against the stone pavement. But as she looks around, a strange realization dawns on her. It''s quiet. Too quiet. The vast streets and majestic plazas, which she imagined would be bustling with powerful monsters, are eerily empty. Nyssara furrows her brow, her earlier awe giving way to confusion. "This... Why is the city empty?" she murmurs, her voice echoing in the silence. Shaking off the unease creeping into her chest, she adjusts the weight of the minerals on her back and sets her sights on the colossal castle looming in the distance. It dominates the cityscape, its spires piercing the heavens, and its gates radiating an aura of power that dwarfs everything else around it. After what feels like an eternity, Nyssara finally arrives at the castle gate. Two figures stand before it, clad in golden armor so immaculate it almost hurts to look at. Their helmets gleam under the ethereal light of the city, and the intricate patterns etched into their armor suggest both artistry and power. Nyssara slows her steps, her eyes narrowing as she studies them. Unlike the guards she encountered earlier, she doesn''t feel a suffocating aura emanating from these two. ''They''re guarding the king''s castle,'' she thinks, her mandibles twitching slightly. ''There''s no way they''re weak. If the city''s normal guards are my equal, then these two...'' Nyssara suppresses a shudder at the thought. She straightens herself and steps forward, her claws clicking softly against the stone. The guards turn their heads toward her in unison, their movements precise, almost mechanical. "His Majesty is waiting for you in the throne room," one of them says, his voice deep and steady. Nyssara blinks, taken aback by the lack of hostility or scrutiny. She nods stiffly. "I... understand," she says, trying to keep her voice steady. The second guard gestures toward the towering doors behind them. "Proceed. Do not deviate from the path." For a moment, Nyssara hesitates. Her instincts scream at her to ask questions¡ªto demand why this city is so empty, why its guards are so calm, why she was summoned in the first place. But the weight of the golden figures'' gazes keeps her silent. Dipping her head in acknowledgment. She steps forward, her legs carrying her toward the colossal gates. As she approaches, the doors begin to open, the sound of grinding stone reverberating through the air. Beyond the gates lies a long, gilded corridor lined with towering statues. The sheer opulence of it makes her feel small, insignificant. Nyssara glances back at the guards, but they''ve already returned to their statuesque stillness. Swallowing her unease, she steps through the gates, the path ahead illuminated by an otherworldly glow. As Nyssara walks deeper into the gilded corridor, her thoughts begin to spiral. "That man... he really is a king," she murmurs, her voice barely audible in the vast, echoing hall. She tightens her grip on the silk straps of her pack. "I thought he was just another powerful monster pretending to be a ruler, like so many others in the forest. But this city... even its lowest guards are as strong as those so-called kings." Her mandibles twitch as a wry smile tugs at her lips. "He wasn''t lying when he said I''d gain more by serving him. I... I can''t believe I''m even thinking this, but maybe... maybe this is the greatest decision I''ve ever made." She stops abruptly, her eyes widening in realization. "Also, I didn''t even ask for his name," she whispers, her voice tinged with embarrassment. Before she can dwell on it further, the sound of light footsteps draws her attention. Nyssara glances up to see a figure approaching¡ªa humanoid bunny with silver fur and long ears tied back neatly. She wears an elegant maid''s uniform, tailored perfectly to her lithe form, and her eyes gleam with a mixture of warmth and authority. "Welcome," the bunny maid says, her voice smooth and polite. She dips into a slight bow, her ears twitching gracefully. "I am the head maid, and I''ve been instructed to guide you to His Majesty''s throne room." Nyssara blinks, momentarily taken aback by the maid''s appearance and composure. "Oh... uh, thank you," she stammers, regaining her posture. The maid straightens and offers a gentle smile. "Though it is a bit of a walk. Please, follow me. His Majesty doesn''t like to be kept waiting." The rest of the walk is silent, save for the soft clicks of Nyssara''s claws against the polished floor. Chapter 23: The Five Monster Lords Shortly after, they arrive at an immense chamber. The throne room is colossal, its ceiling stretching so high that it seems to touch the heavens. Massive, intricate pillars carved with scenes of dragons and battles line the hall, their designs glowing faintly with a magical light. At the far end, a grand throne catches Nyssara''s eye¡ªa masterpiece wrought in black stone and gold, its design shaped like a dragon coiled protectively around the seat. The dragon''s eyes, set with fiery red gemstones, almost seem alive, radiating an intimidating aura. Seated on the throne is Alix, his piercing gaze locked onto her as if he''s been waiting for her all along. His presence is overwhelming, and though he doesn''t move, she feels the weight of his power pressing down on her. Nyssara slows her steps, her earlier pride and defiance nowhere to be found. She kneels before him as soon as she is close enough, lowering her head. The resentment and arrogance she once felt toward him have been completely stripped away. In this moment, she only wants to earn his favor. "Your Majesty," she begins, her voice steady but laced with deference. She unfastens the silk pack from her back and places it before her. "This is all the minerals we mined. I offer them to you as promised." She doesn''t dare call him "Master" now. The enormity of his presence and the grandeur of his domain make her hesitate to address him with anything but the utmost formality. Alix''s expression doesn''t change, though his lips curl slightly at her change in tone. He leans forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand as he surveys the offering before him. "Uhm," he says, his voice calm but carrying an edge of amusement. "That''s quite a lot, considering how little time has passed. You''ve exceeded my expectations, Nyssara." Nyssara glances up briefly, her crimson eyes flicking to his face before lowering again. "I... I only did what you asked, Your Majesty. It is an honor to serve you." Alix studies her for a moment, his gaze sharp enough to cut through steel. He''s not surprised by her shift in attitude¡ªhe expected it. The power and order of his city, along with the sheer disparity in strength, were enough to break even the most stubborn hearts. "Very well," Alix says, leaning back in his throne. Alix taps a finger on the armrest of his throne. "This is not the only reason I summoned you here," he says, his tone steady but laced with intrigue. Nyssara straightens slightly, curiosity flickering in her crimson eyes. "What is it, Your Majesty? It will be my pleasure to be of use," she replies earnestly, her voice unwavering. Alix narrows his gaze slightly. "I''ve heard you mention there are other monsters like you in the forest. Tell me about them." Nyssara nods, folding her claws neatly in front of her. "Yes, Your Majesty. There are five in total, including myself. Each of them claims a portion of the forest as their territory." Alix leans forward slightly, his interest piqued. "Oh? That''s interesting," he muses. "Are they as strong as you?" Nyssara hesitates, her mandibles twitching faintly as she thinks. "I only know for certain that at least three of them are as strong as me. But the other two..." She pauses, her brow furrowing. "I don''t have much of a clue about their strength." "And what about the strongest?" Alix asks, his voice calm but probing. "Surely, you must know who stands above the rest." Nyssara''s expression darkens slightly, a hint of unease creeping into her voice. "There is one. His name is Tolga. He is the strongest among us¡ªor so I''ve heard. But I don''t know much about him." Alix raises an eyebrow. "Why not? Does he not have a territory like the others?" Nyssara shakes her head. "No, Your Majesty. Unlike the rest of us, who have subordinates and fixed territories, Tolga''s location is always unknown. He moves through the forest like a shadow, and no one dares to challenge him." Alix leans back in his throne, he raises his right hand into the air. A faint shimmer ripples through the space above his palm, and a small rift opens, glowing with an eerie, otherworldly light. From it, he pulls out a rolled map and an elegant pen. "I want you to mark the locations of these monsters," he says. He unfurls the map, revealing a detailed layout of the forest. He tosses it toward Nyssara, and it lands lightly on the ground in front of her. Nyssara''s eyes widen as she watches the rift vanish as quickly as it appeared. Her gaze flickers to the map and pen now lying before her, then back to Alix. She doesn''t dare ask how he did it, though the question burns in her mind. Instead, she swallows her surprise and nods. "Of course, Your Majesty," she says, her voice steady despite her curiosity. Carefully, she picks up the map and the pen, unrolling the parchment to reveal its intricate details. The forest is laid out with precision, every river, clearing, and dense thicket marked. "This is my territory," she begins, drawing a small circle with the pen. "To the northwest, near the cliffs, is another monster''s domain. His name is Dargan. He''s as strong as me and commands a swarm of rock monster." She marks the spot, then moves her finger slightly east. "Here, in the marshlands, is Veltha. She''s a water serpent and controls the creatures of the swamp. She''s strong, but I believe I could match her if needed." Alix watches her closely, his expression unreadable as she continues. "To the south, in the ash plains, is Groth. He''s good at fire magic, unpredictable and aggressive. I''ve clashed with him before¡ªhe''s slightly stronger than me." Her claw tracing the map to the eastern forest. "And here... this is where Thurn resides. He''s a venomous beast, spider-like in appearance, and his webbing stretches across the dense trees. He''s cunning, and his strength is much stronger than mine, and he relies more on ambush tactics." Chapter 24: Grixx She moves her hand toward the center of the forest. "Now, about Tolga..." Nyssara''s voice lowers slightly. "This is where it gets difficult. I''ve heard rumors he roams around here, but no one knows for sure. He doesn''t stay in one place for long, and anyone who tries to track him either vanishes or comes back empty-handed." Nyssara circles a broad area in the center of the map. "This is the best I can do for him. He''s like a ghost in the forest." Nyssara takes a deep breath as she finishes marking the locations, her claw hovering over the map. She looks up at Alix and hands the map back to him carefully. "Here, Your Majesty," she says. "This is all I know." Alix takes the map, his crimson eyes scanning it briefly before rolling it up. He leans back in his throne, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Uhm," Nyssara ventures hesitantly, her voice quieter now. "Are you... planning something?" Alix glances at her, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "I am. If I want to make this forest mine, I need every creature in it to submit to me. Voluntarily or otherwise." Nyssara blinks, her eyes widening slightly. "You... plan to conquer the entire forest?" "Yes," Alix replies smoothly. "We''ll start with the strongest. Once they fall, the others will have no choice but to yield." Nyssara nods slowly, her mind racing as she imagines the scale of his plans. The thought of him subjugating monsters as strong as Tolga seems both daunting and inevitable. Alix studies her for a moment, then leans forward slightly, his tone shifting to something more casual. "What about you? Have you considered living here in the city instead of that cave?" Nyssara''s crimson eyes widen in surprise. "What? Really? I... I could live here?" "Yes," Alix says with a faint smile. "There are plenty of houses here, as you''ve no doubt noticed. You can choose any unclaimed one in the city." Nyssara''s gaze flickers with excitement, though she quickly tamps it down. She had seen the empty houses¡ªespecially the ones near the palace, with their grand designs and prime locations. Her mandibles twitch slightly as she tries to contain her enthusiasm. Alix notices her reaction immediately. "But," he adds, raising a finger, "the properties in Velirion Heights¡ªthe noble district¡ªare off limits. They already have owners." Nyssara''s excitement dims slightly, but she nods quickly. "I understand, Your Majesty. Anywhere else is... more than generous." "Good," Alix says, leaning back again. "You can make your choice today if you wish." After Nyssara leaves, Alix sits on his throne, unrolling the map she marked. His crimson eyes narrow as they settle on the territory of Thurn. The spider-like monster''s domain sprawls across the dense eastern forest, marked by webbed paths and venomous traps. "This guy is the second strongest of them," Alix murmurs to himself, his voice low but decisive. "So, I''ll start with him." He rolls the map back up. "Tomorrow, then." The next day, Alix steps into his flying carriage, its sleek black frame gleaming faintly with magical energy. His trusted lizardman royal guard is already waiting inside, standing stiffly at attention. The carriage lifts off smoothly, the city falling away below them as it glides through the sky. Alix settles into his seat, gazing out at the vast expanse of forest stretching toward the horizon. After a moment of silence, he turns to the lizardman. "What is your name?" Alix asks. The lizardman stiffens, his golden eyes widening slightly. For a moment, he seems unsure if he heard correctly. "M-my name, Your Majesty?" "Yes," Alix replies, his tone firm but not unkind. "You''ve served me well. I''d like to know who I''m addressing." The lizardman''s chest swells with pride. Being asked his name by the king himself feels like the greatest honor. He bows his head slightly, his gravelly voice steady despite his excitement. "Your Majesty, my name is Grixx. It is an honor to serve you." Alix nods. "Grixx. A strong name. You''ve proven yourself reliable. Let''s see if you can continue to meet my expectations today." "Yes, Your Majesty!" Grixx replies, his voice filled with determination. "I will not fail you." Alix leans back in his seat, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Good. We''ll need your strength where we''re going." The carriage soars over the trees, the dense eastern forest coming into view. The towering canopy stretches endlessly, its dark green depths hinting at the dangers lurking within. Alix''s eyes flicker with anticipation as the carriage begins its descent. "Prepare yourself, Grixx," Alix says, his tone calm. "We''re entering Thurn''s territory." Shortly after, Alix orders Grixx to land the carriage. The flying vehicle descends gracefully into the heart of Thurn''s domain, where the air grows thick with a faintly shimmering, green miasma. As the carriage touches the forest floor, the surrounding area reveals itself just as Nyssara had described¡ªdense trees covered in thick, glistening webs stretching from branch to branch. The ground is hidden beneath a layer of sticky threads, and faint clicking noises echo in the distance. Alix steps out of the carriage, his crimson eyes surveying the area. The poisonous miasma hangs heavily, but he feels no effect thanks to the divine ring on his finger. Its subtle glow protects him from any toxin. He glances at Grixx, who follows close behind, showing no signs of discomfort. Alix narrows his eyes slightly, his mind calculating. "So," Alix says, his voice breaking the silence, "this miasma doesn''t affect you." Grixx looks at him, his golden eyes sharp. "No, Your Majesty. I feel nothing." Alix smirks faintly. "That''s good to know. Your resistance confirms something for me." Grixx tilts his head slightly, curious. "What is that, Your Majesty?" "This gas," Alix says, gesturing to the faint green fog surrounding them, "is potent enough to weaken lesser beings. If it doesn''t faze you, then Thurn''s strength is likely around level 280 or higher. Poison this concentrated wouldn''t even register to someone like you unless it came from a significant threat." Chapter 25: Tier 5 skills As Alix and Grixx tread further into the webbed territory, a faint sound echoes through the dense forest¡ªclicking and skittering, growing louder with each passing second. "Something''s coming," Alix says calmly, his crimson eyes darting in the direction of the noise. Moments later, a group of spider-like monsters emerges from the shadows, their glossy exoskeletons reflecting the dim green glow of the miasma. Their multiple eyes gleam with malice as they crawl closer, hissing and clicking in a symphony of aggression. Alix doesn''t move, his expression remaining impassive. He gestures slightly toward Grixx. "Take care of them." "Yes, Your Majesty," Grixx says with a sharp nod, drawing his massive, curved blade. Though the enemies are clearly weaker than him, his movements are deliberate and exaggerated, as if putting on a show. With one powerful swing, Grixx''s blade cleaves through nearly half of the group in a single stroke. The force of his attack sends a gust of wind rippling through the miasma, scattering the lifeless spider monsters to the ground. He spins the blade in his claws, striking a dramatic pose before finishing off the rest of the group with equally flamboyant moves. When the last monster falls, Grixx turns to Alix, his chest puffed with pride. "All enemies neutralized, Your Majesty." Alix''s expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Hey, don''t overdo it," he says, his tone sharp but laced with a faint smirk. "We don''t want Thurn fleeing in fear before we even get to him." Grixx straightens, a hint of embarrassment flashing across his reptilian features. "Understood, Your Majesty. I''ll be... more efficient next time." High above in the canopy of a massive, ancient tree, a colossal Arachne male rests against the trunk, his long legs sprawled lazily. Thurn''s dark carapace gleams faintly under the filtered light of the miasma. His eight crimson eyes are shut, but the vibrations traveling up the webbed strands connecting the forest alert him. He stirs, his mandibles clicking faintly as he opens his eyes, each one scanning the threads stretched across his territory. "That''s a surprise," Thurn mutters, his deep, resonant voice carrying a faint undertone of irritation. "The intruder this time killed my first line of defense so easily. Who could it be?" He stretches his long, spindly legs, cracking his joints as he considers. "Did one of the monster kings decide to invade me? Unlikely. The plan is about to begin¡ªthey wouldn''t dare risk it now." Thurn narrows his eyes, the flicker of irritation giving way to curiosity. He clicks his mandibles and gestures toward a smaller Arachne skittering nearby. "You," Thurn orders, his tone commanding. "Go and see who''s causing havoc in my territory. Report back immediately. Do not engage them." The smaller Arachne bows its head low, its multiple eyes reflecting fear and respect. "Yes, Lord Thurn. I will return with news." "Make haste," Thurn says, his voice growing colder. The smaller Arachne scurries down the tree with practiced ease, disappearing into the dense webbing below. Thurn leans back against the trunk once more. "Interesting," he mutters to himself, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "Let''s see who''s bold enough to trespass into my domain." --- Alix and Grixx walk deeper into Thurn''s territory, the thick webbing covering the trees and ground becoming more oppressive. The sticky strands glisten faintly in the miasma, reflecting an eerie green light. Alix raises his hand, casting a low-tier fireball. The small orb of flame shoots forward, igniting a cluster of webs and clearing a narrow path ahead. "This guy''s territory is kind of annoying," Alix mutters, flicking another fireball at a particularly dense web strung between two massive trees. The flame burns it away, leaving behind smoldering ashes. Grixx watches his king, his eyes gleaming with determination. "Your Majesty," he says, stepping forward, "do you want me to clear a path for you?" Alix pauses mid-gesture and turns to look at Grixx. The lizardman''s expression is serious, his massive blade resting on his shoulder, ready to swing. Alix sighs, rubbing his temple. "I already told you," Alix says, his tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. "That''s the last thing we want to do¡ªscare Thurn away before we even see him." Grixx straightens, clearly disappointed but nods. "Understood, Your Majesty." He steps back, lowering his weapon. Alix shakes his head and continues clearing webs with small fireballs and thought. ''Honestly, a level 500 could just wipe this entire area clean in one tier 5 skill. But no, we have to do this the hard way.'' Alix glances back at Grixx, who seems to be itching to use his full strength. There''s a reason level 500 is a benchmark in the world¡ªthe leap in strength is monumental. Alix thinks back to the mechanics of the game, the rules that governed his rise to power. Level 500 isn''t just a number; it''s a transformation. At that level, flying becomes second nature, and Tier 5 skills, rare and devastating abilities, become accessible. In the game, most level 500 NPCs only have one or two Tier 5 skills at best. Tier 5 skills aren''t something you can just buy in the npc shop¡ªthey''re treasures, found in dungeons, and only if luck is on your side. But Alix''s royal guards are an exception. Each of them has three to four Tier 5 skills, a testament to his kingdom''s power. "Your Majesty," Grixx says after a moment, his voice breaking Alix''s thoughts, "if we encounter Thurn, shall I hold back, or do you wish for me to test his strength?" Alix smirks faintly, his crimson eyes glinting in the dim light of the miasma. "Test him," he says, his tone calm but commanding. "But don''t kill him. We need him alive." Grixx nods sharply, his grip tightening on his blade. "Understood, Your Majesty." Just as they continue through the thickening webbing, Grixx suddenly halts. His nostrils flare, and his golden eyes narrow. "I sense a stealth creature nearby, Your Majesty." Alix''s gaze flicks to the surrounding shadows, his senses sharpening. "I know. Go and catch it." Chapter 26: Grixx Vs. Thurn Without hesitation, Grixx vanishes, his massive frame disappearing into the shadows with a speed that defies his size. The silence lasts only a second before he reappears in front of Alix, his clawed hand gripping the struggling form of a smaller Arachne monster. The creature hisses and writhes, its multiple legs flailing as it tries in vain to free itself from Grixx''s iron grip. Its glossy black exoskeleton gleams faintly in the miasma''s eerie glow, and its eight crimson eyes dart frantically between Alix and Grixx. "I found our stealthy friend," Grixx says, holding the Arachne up like a trophy. "It was hiding in the canopy, trying to stay out of sight." Alix steps closer, his crimson eyes locking onto the creature''s frantic gaze. "You''re one of Thurn''s scouts, aren''t you?"His voice is calm, but there''s a dangerous edge to it. "Tell me, what did he send you to do?" The Arachne freezes for a moment, then hisses defiantly. "I will not betray my lord!" Alix sighs, shaking his head. "Grixx, make it clear we''re not playing games." Grixx smirks and tightens his grip just slightly, the sound of chitin creaking under pressure filling the air. The Arachne lets out a choked screech, its defiance quickly turning to panic. "I-I was sent to observe!" it stammers. "Lord Thurn ordered me to see who was intruding in his territory! That''s all¡ªI swear!" Alix raises an eyebrow. "And what were you planning to report?" The Arachne hesitates, then spills its words in a rush. "Two intruders¡ª very powerful! I was going to tell him everything I saw!" Alix hums thoughtfully, then looks at Grixx. "Good catch." Grixx grins. "Shall I dispose of it, Your Majesty?" "No," Alix says. Alix continues. "Lead us to the lair of Thurn." The Arachne hesitates, its eyes darting between Alix and Grixx before it nods frantically. "Y-yes, yes! I will take you there!" "Good," Alix says, gesturing for it to move forward. "Start walking." The Arachne scuttles ahead, weaving through the dense webbing with practiced ease. Grixx follows closely, his massive blade resting on his shoulder as he keeps a watchful eye on the creature. Alix walks behind them, his steps calm and deliberate, his mind already piecing together the next steps. After some time, the three arrive at a large clearing dominated by an enormous cocoon-shaped structure. The webbed fortress looms high, its silken walls glistening faintly under the dim, sickly-green glow of the miasma. The entire area is eerily silent, with no sign of movement or life. Alix stops, his sharp gaze scanning the lair. "Too quiet," he mutters under his breath. Just as he turns to question the Arachne, the creature lets out a shrill screech. "Poison bomb," Grixx growls, tossing the remains of the creature aside as the smoke envelops them. His eyes gleam as he raises his blade, the edge glinting faintly in the dim light. "Cheap trick." A shadow moves within the smoke, fast and deliberate. Without warning, Thurn lunges out of the haze, his massive form striking with the speed of a predator. His long, spindly legs aim for Alix in a vicious, stabbing motion. Before the attack can land, Grixx steps between them, his blade slamming against Thurn''s legs with a deafening clang. The force of the clash sends ripples through the smoke, momentarily parting it. "Not even a hello?" Alix says, his voice calm but dripping with sarcasm as he watches from behind Grixx. Thurn clicks his mandibles, retreating a few steps as the smoke begins to clear. His eight crimson eyes lock onto Alix, glowing with malice. "You dare invade my domain and demand courtesy?" he hisses, his voice a deep, resonant snarl. Grixx bares his teeth, his tail flicking with irritation. "How dare an insect speak so presumptuously to His Majesty," he growls, his grip tightening on his sword. Before Alix can respond, Grixx swing his massive blade in a wide arc. This time, the swing carries a little more force¡ªfueled by his anger. The sheer power of the strike sends a shockwave rippling through the air, catching Thurn squarely and hurling him backward like a bolt of lightning. Thurn crashes into the side of his webbed fortress with a sickening crack, the impact sending tremors through the entire structure. He slumps to the ground momentarily, his legs splayed awkwardly, before shakily rising again. His crimson eyes blaze with fury, venom dripping from his mandibles as he hisses in rage. Grixx scratches the back of his head, his expression suddenly sheepish as he looks back at Alix. "Uh... sorry, Your Majesty. I lost control of my anger." Alix sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he steps forward. "That''s alright, he''s not dead," Alix says, his tone calm but tinged with amusement. "But you''ve definitely pissed him off." Thurn lets out a guttural snarl, his massive form shaking with rage. He slams his front legs into the ground, cracking the earth beneath him. "You dare strike me with such insolence!" he roars, his voice echoing through the clearing. "I will make you suffer for this!" Thurn lunges forward again, this time with unrestrained fury, his movements wild and erratic. His long legs stab and slash at the air as he barrels toward Grixx and Alix, the venom on his fangs glinting ominously. Grixx steps forward with a wide grin, his massive blade rising to meet Thurn''s charge. The sound of steel clashing against chitin reverberates through the clearing as Grixx expertly parries the wild strikes. In the middle of the fray, Alix''s voice echoes in Grixx''s mind, calm yet firm. "Grixx, I will remind you again¡ªdo not kill him. We need him alive." Grixx responds telepathically, his tone tinged with annoyance but obedient. "Understood, Your Majesty. I''ll keep it to Tier 2 skills." Thurn snarls, his legs striking with rapid precision, but Grixx sidesteps each blow effortlessly. With a deliberate move, Grixx counters, his blade glowing faintly as he activates a Tier 2 skill, [Cleave Strike]. The controlled attack sends a precise wave of force slicing through the air, slamming into Thurn''s side and forcing him to stumble back, but leaving no fatal wounds. Chapter 27: Tier 5 Skill In Action Thurn screeches in frustration, his massive body shaking as he tries to regain his footing. "Is that all you''ve got?" Grixx taunts, twirling his blade lazily. Thurn''s eight crimson eyes narrow, venom dripping from his fangs as he lunges again, this time with more focus. Grixx blocks easily, deflecting the blows without breaking a sweat. He steps forward, spinning his blade in a controlled arc, activating [Blade Rush], a quick, non-lethal skill that sends a flurry of strikes toward Thurn''s legs. The blows connect, forcing Thurn to retreat further, his movements becoming more sluggish. "Still think you can make me suffer?" Grixx smirks, his voice dripping with mockery. Thurn''s mandibles clatter angrily as he glares at Grixx. "You''re holding back," he hisses, his voice filled with venomous fury. "Why? Do you mock me?" Grixx chuckles darkly. "Mock you? You''re not worth my full power, bug. Be grateful I''m sparing you." Grixx nods slightly, dodging another of Thurn''s lunges with ease. "Your Majesty wants you alive," he says aloud, his tone mocking. "But don''t worry¡ªthis is still fun for me." Thurn lets out a guttural roar, his form shaking with barely contained rage. His movements grow more erratic, his strikes less coordinated as he begins to succumb to exhaustion. Grixx, still using only Tier 2 skills, easily counters each attack, wearing him down bit by bit. Thurn snarls, his mandibles clashing together as venom drips to the ground, hissing upon impact. "Don''t underestimate me!" he roars, his body trembling with anger. Without warning, his eight legs stab into the ground, and his body glows faintly green. "[Venom Spikes]!" he bellows. Spikes of hardened venom erupt from the ground, aiming directly for Grixx. Each spike glistens with deadly poison, their tips razor-sharp. Grixx doesn''t flinch. Instead, he steps aside with casual grace, dodging the onslaught with precise, fluid movements. His golden eyes gleam with amusement as he sidesteps each spike effortlessly, his blade never once leaving his shoulder. "Use all your skills now before it''s too late?" Grixx taunts, his smirk widening. Thurn growls, his crimson eyes narrowing. He rears back, his mandibles opening wide as a green mist begins to swirl around him. "[Venom Cloud]!" he hisses, unleashing a toxic fog that spreads rapidly, filling the air with a deadly miasma. The cloud engulfs Grixx, but the towering warrior simply stands still, his tail swaying lazily behind him. The mist seems to swirl around him without effect, as if repelled by his sheer presence. "You really think poison will work on me?" Grixx chuckles, his voice carrying through the fog. "You''ll have to do better than that, bug." Thurn clicks his mandibles angrily, his legs stabbing at the ground in frustration. "Stop mocking me!!" he roars. His body shudders as he activates his final skill. "[Venom Chains]!" Thick, glowing green tendrils of venom shoot out from his body, snaking toward Grixx with incredible speed. The chains whip through the air, aiming to bind Grixx and dissolve his defenses. Grixx finally moves. With a single step, he pivots, twisting his body just enough to let the chains miss their mark. He swings his blade lazily, cutting through the venom chains as though they''re made of air. The remains of the chains dissolve into harmless droplets, sizzling against the ground. Thurn stumbles back, his breath ragged, venom pooling beneath his trembling legs. His crimson eyes dart toward Grixx, filled with desperation and fury. Grixx smirks, rolling his shoulders as though warming up. "Face it, Thurn," Grixx says, his voice dripping with disdain. "You''re out of tricks." From behind, Alix observes in silence, his crimson eyes thoughtful. Thurn''s desperation is exactly what he wanted. Breaking his spirit now would make him easier to control later. Through telepathy, Alix''s calm voice echoes in Grixx''s mind. "End it, Grixx. Use a Tier 5 skill. Make sure it doesn''t kill him, but scare the soul out of him." Grixx''s smirk fades, replaced by a sharp grin that radiates menace. "Understood, Your Majesty," he replies telepathically, his voice tinged with excitement. Grixx steps forward, his massive blade glowing ominously as he lifts it high. A low hum fills the air, the ground trembling under the sheer pressure of his energy. The trees surrounding them begin to sway violently as the atmosphere grows heavy. Thurn''s eyes widen in fear, his mandibles clattering. "W-what are you doing?" he stammers, his voice trembling. "You wanted my full power," Grixx says, his voice low and menacing. "Here it is." With a deafening roar, Grixx activates his Tier 5 skill, [Oblivion Cleave]. He swings his blade downward in a devastating arc, unleashing an enormous wave of energy. The ground shatters beneath the force, a blinding light exploding outward as the wave cuts through the air. The impact is catastrophic. The surrounding forest disintegrates into nothingness, trees reduced to ash and dust as the energy tears through the landscape. A shockwave ripples outward, uprooting anything that dares stand in its path. When the light fades, the battlefield is unrecognizable. The forest is gone, replaced by a barren wasteland of scorched earth and debris. Thurn lies on the ground, his legs sprawled awkwardly as he trembles. His exoskeleton is cracked in places, venom oozing from his wounds. Despite his injuries, he is still alive¡ªbarely. Grixx lowers his blade, his golden eyes glowing faintly as he exhales slowly. He turns to Alix, a satisfied grin on his face. "Didn''t aim for him, Your Majesty. He''s alive, just like you wanted." Alix steps forward, his gaze fixed on Thurn. The once-proud Arachne lord is now a trembling, broken figure, his crimson eyes filled with terror. "Still think you can challenge us?" Alix asks, his voice calm but cold. Thurn struggles to speak, his voice barely above a whisper. "H-how... How are you this strong...?" Alix crouches beside him, his crimson eyes locking onto Thurn''s. "This was just a fraction of our power," he says softly, his tone laced with menace. "Now, do you understand why resistance is pointless?" Thurn shudders, his mandibles twitching. "I... I yield. Please he...help me," he whispers, his voice filled with despair. Chapter 28: Veltha Alix tilts his head slightly, pretending not to hear. His crimson eyes gleam with amusement as he leans in just a little closer. "What was that?" he asks, his tone smooth and mocking. "I can''t hear you." Thurn''s broken body trembles, his wounds searing with pain. Every breath feels like fire in his lungs, his limbs barely responding. But he knows this is his only chance. If he hesitates, he will die. With all the strength he can muster, he forces his mandibles to move. His voice is weak, pitiful, but the words escape. "Please... save me," he begs, his pride shattered. Alix watches him for a moment, expression unreadable. Then, slowly, his lips curl into a smile¡ªcold, knowing, victorious. "Should''ve said that earlier," he muses, standing up. "You''re about to die." Thurn lets out a faint, choked noise, too weak to protest. Without breaking eye contact, Alix reaches into his inventory with a flick of his fingers. A faint shimmer appears in his palm as a medium-grade healing potion materializes. The glass vial is filled with a swirling, golden liquid, radiating a faint warmth. He kneels once more, lifting Thurn''s head slightly with one hand. "Lucky for you," Alix murmurs, bringing the vial to his lips, "I don''t let useful things die so easily." He tilts the potion forward, forcing Thurn to drink. The liquid glides down his throat, and almost instantly, the wounds across his body begin to mend, cracked exoskeleton sealing, torn muscles repairing. A deep, shuddering breath escapes Thurn as relief washes over him. Thurn lies still for a moment, his breathing ragged but steady. The pain that once wracked his body is gone, replaced by a lingering exhaustion. He flexes his limbs, testing his strength, and to his astonishment, he finds himself fully restored. Alix stands over him, arms crossed, watching with quiet amusement as Thurn realizes the extent of his recovery. The crimson-eyed ruler tilts his head slightly, then speaks, his voice smooth but carrying an undeniable weight. "Now that you are healed," Alix says, his gaze piercing, "I will ask you a question." Thurn stiffens, his eight crimson eyes locking onto Alix with caution. "Are you going to bow down to me?" A heavy silence hangs in the air. The question is simple, yet the weight behind it is suffocating. Thurn knows that his answer will determine his fate. His pride as a lord screams at him to refuse, but the memory of that overwhelming power¡ªthe effortless destruction, the sheer gap between them¡ªclaws at his resolve. His mandibles twitch, hesitation clear in his posture. His mind races, searching for any option that does not end in his death or servitude. But deep down, he already knows the truth. There is no escape. Alix watches him, unbothered, as if he already knows the answer. Thurn swallows hard, his voice low but clear. "...Do I have a choice?" Alix''s lips curl into an amused smirk. His eyes gleam as he leans slightly forward, his voice smooth and calm. "Of course you have a choice," he says. "As long as you''re prepared to die." Thurn flinches. His legs tremble beneath him, his exoskeleton still aching despite the healing. He glances at Grixx, whose eyes remain indifferent. A deep shudder runs through Thurn''s body. His pride has already been shattered. His strength means nothing before Grixx''s overwhelming power. He knows resisting would only lead to a swift and merciless end. Slowly, painfully, he lowers his body to the ground. His eight legs fold beneath him as he kneels, his mandibles clicking softly. "I, Thurn, Lord of the Arachne," he declares, voice strained but steady, "swear my loyalty to you. From this day forth, my fangs and my brood are yours to command." Alix watches him for a moment, then nods, satisfied. "Good," he says simply. Thurn remains kneeling, his pride a distant memory. The weight of his oath settles over him like chains, yet he dares not resist. After a brief pause, Alix steps forward, placing a hand on Thurn''s head. There''s no warmth in the gesture, only the undeniable weight of ownership. "Now," Alix says, his tone casual, "tell me who we should visit next." Thurn hesitates for only a moment before responding. "Your Majesty... what about Veltha?" At this, Alix raises an eyebrow. "The water serpen?" Thurn clarifies. "She rules the marshlands and commands the creatures of the swamp. She will not submit easily." Alix hums in thought. He doesn''t particularly care about the order in which he subjugates the monster lords¡ªhe will visit them all in time. "Then let''s go to Veltha," he decides. Shortly after, they arrive in Veltha''s domain¡ªthe marshlands. The air is thick with mist, the scent of damp earth and stagnant water clinging to every breath. Towering trees loom overhead, their twisted roots disappearing beneath the murky swamp. The water is dark, hiding whatever lurks beneath its surface. Yet, despite the eerie silence, not a single creature attacks. Alix walks forward calmly, his crimson eyes scanning the area. Shadows shift within the trees, glowing eyes peering from beneath the water''s surface. But none dare move against them. "Ohh, they are not attacking," Grixx muses, his tail flicking lazily behind him. Thurn nods, his voice low. "None of these beasts will attack as long as I am with you. The monster lords know each other. Veltha and I... we''ve fought before." Alix raises an eyebrow. "And?" Thurn hesitates before responding. "I win," he admits. "But she''s cunning and strong. Even if she knows she can''t win, she won''t surrender easily." Alix smirks, unconcerned. "Then we''ll make her." A ripple disturbs the water beside them. A massive shape slithers just beneath the surface, barely visible in the dim light. The swamp falls deathly silent. Then, a voice¡ªsmooth, cold, and echoing¡ªrises from the mist. The voice hisses, dripping with venomous disdain. "Thurn, why are you here again? Didn''t the meeting get scheduled for next month?" The water churns as the massive serpent shifts beneath the surface. "Or... are you here to humiliate me again?" Her tone darkens, the glow of her eyes narrowing dangerously. "This time, you might not leave this place in one piece." Chapter 29:Making The Four Lords His Subject A colossal serpent, her iridescent blue-green scales shimmer like liquid as she rises above them. Her body coils effortlessly, massive yet elegant, her golden eyes glowing with quiet menace. A frilled crest fans out from her head, water dripping from it as she regards them with amusement. Thurn exhales, exasperated but cautious. He knows Veltha well¡ªher pride is as deep as the swamp itself. He raises his arms slightly, a gesture of peace. "Relax, Veltha. I''m not here to fight you," he says, his mandibles clicking lightly. "I came to introduce you to my new master¡ªHis Majesty Alix." For a moment, there is silence. Then, Veltha''s laughter echoes through the swamp, low and taunting. "No way," she scoffs. "You? Bowing to another monster?" Her coils shift, sending ripples across the murky water. "Is this your new way of toying with me, Thurn?" she snaps, her voice laced with anger. "You think this is funny?" Thurn sighs, turning to Alix. "Your Majesty, I told you¡ªshe''s very stubborn." His tone is resigned, but there''s a flicker of something else¡ªamusement, perhaps. Then, he adds, "What about making her suffer a little? Just don''t overdo it." Alix doesn''t respond immediately. Instead, he turns his gaze to Grixx. The lizardman grins, sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. Grixx steps forward without hesitation, rolling his shoulders as his muscles tense. There''s no drawn-out exchange, no taunting words¡ªjust action. In the blink of an eye, his aura flares violently, distorting the air around him. The swamp trembles under the sudden surge of mana. Then, he vanishes A split second later, a deafening explosion erupts. The murky waters part violently as a shockwave tears through the marsh. The towering trees shatter like brittle twigs, their trunks sent flying. The creatures of the swamp screech in terror and scatter into the depths, their instincts screaming at them to flee. Veltha barely has time to react before the full force of a Grixx''s fist crashes into her. A massive, clawed fist slams into her coiled body, the impact sending her colossal form hurtling through the swamp. Her scales, tough enough to withstand the strongest of attacks, crack under the sheer force. The serpent shrieks as her body crashes through the landscape, uprooting everything in her path. She writhes, twisting to counterattack, but Grixx is relentless. He appears above her in a blur, his claws crackling with raw energy. Another impact. The ground erupts. Water, debris, and remnants of Veltha''s ruined domain rain down in every direction. Within moments, it''s over. The once-great marshland is unrecognizable¡ªa battlefield of destruction. The trees are gone, the swamp reduced to a gaping crater. The water has been blasted away, leaving only broken earth behind. And at the center of it all, Veltha kneels. Her massive body is battered, coils trembling uncontrollably. Blood seeps from deep gashes along her scales, her crest shattered. She gasps for breath, golden eyes wide with something she has never felt before¡ªtrue fear. Her gaze flickers to Grixx. The lizardman merely cracks his neck, looking entirely unbothered, as if he hadn''t just leveled an entire region. Veltha''s breath hitches. Slowly, painfully, she shifts her gaze to Alix. The crimson-eyed ruler stands before her, expression unreadable, his arms crossed in silent expectation. Veltha shudders, swallowing her pride. Her broken body refuses to rise, but she forces herself to lower her head further, bowing deeply before him. She rasps, her voice hoarse. "I... I surrender." Alix watches her for a moment, then lets out a quiet hum of approval. Without a word, he flicks his fingers, and a shimmering vial appears in his hand. The golden liquid inside swirls with faint warmth¡ªanother medium-grade healing potion. He steps forward, placing it in front of Veltha. "Drink," he orders, his tone calm but absolute. Veltha hesitates, her pride still resisting, but the pain wracking her body is undeniable. With a quiet hiss, she lowers her head and laps up the potion. Almost immediately, the wounds across her massive body begin to mend. The deep gashes close, her cracked scales repairing themselves. Strength slowly returns to her limbs. She exhales, lowering her head further in submission. Without wasting any more time, Alix turns, his eyes flickering with cold amusement. "Next, we move to Groth," he announces. Thurn and Veltha exchange wary glances. --- The air here is thick with heat, the sky hazy with rising embers. Blackened earth stretches for miles, rivers of molten lava snaking through jagged terrain. In the distance, a fortress of obsidian looms, its spires glowing faintly with the pulsing heat of the land itself. At the heart of the Ash Plains, atop a cracked plateau surrounded by flowing lava, stands Groth. His hunched form draped in layers of soot-stained robes. His gnarled staff, carved from obsidian, pulses with embers of dormant fire magic. Though his body is frail, his eyes burn with wisdom and raw power. As Alix and his entourage approach, Groth''s gaze flickers from Thurn to Veltha¡ªboth once proud lords now standing subdued beside their new ruler. The mighty Arachne Lord, silent and obedient. The Water Serpent, eyes downcast. For a long moment, Groth says nothing. Then, without hesitation, he kneels. "I see," Groth murmurs, his voice like crackling embers. "No words are needed." Thurn exhales, relieved that this time there will be no battle. Veltha, however, remains rigid, still processing how quickly Groth submitted. Alix watches him, arms crossed. His eyes flicker with interest, but also mild disappointment. "That''s it?" he muses. "No resistance?" Groth chuckles, tapping his staff against the ground. The motion sends a soft ripple of heat through the air. "I am old, but not foolish. If those two have bowed... then I know resistance is meaningless." His gaze sharpens. Grixx chuckles under his breath, tail flicking lazily. "Smart old man." Alix raises an eyebrow, his voice sharp but tinged with approval. "Good. It seems you''re not entirely blind, Groth." He pauses, considering the old monster''s submission, his gaze thoughtful. Grixx steps forward. "His Majesty, Alix, wants you to take an oath," he states simply, his voice low but firm. Without a word, Groth kneels fully, his ancient body creaking under the weight of his years. "I, Groth, Master of Fire, swear my loyalty to you, Alix, ruler of all that stands before you," he says, his voice deep and gravelly like distant thunder. "From this day forth, my flames are yours to command." Chapter 30: The Plan To Attack Misorn City Alix watches him, his crimson eyes cold yet approving. "Very well," he says, gesturing for Groth to rise. "You will not regret this choice." Groth stands slowly, his gnarled staff pulsing with faint embers. He casts a glance at Thurn and Veltha, both silent and subdued. The sight of them, once proud and mighty, now standing as mere followers, reinforces the gravity of his decision. Then, Alix flicks his wrist, and a gleaming silver carriage appears before them. The moment it manifests, the air shifts. The carriage is unlike anything they have ever seen¡ªfloating effortlessly, its sleek frame made of an unknown metal that hums with restrained power. Strange, intricate runes glow faintly along its surface, pulsating like a heartbeat. Groth''s eyes widen, his grip tightening on his staff. "This... this is not natural magic," he mutters, voice tinged with something rare¡ªgenuine disbelief. "No spell, no construct I know of can achieve such a thing." Thurn crosses his arms, watching Groth''s reaction with some amusement. "I was shocked too, old man," he says. "Took me a while to accept it. But His Majesty''s power isn''t something we can measure." Alix steps forward, placing a hand on the side of the carriage. A soft hum resonates through the air as the runes flare slightly in response to his touch. "Enough gawking," he says, his voice calm but firm. "Get in." Groth hesitates. "I may be old, but I am not feeble-minded," he mutters, still processing the sheer impossibility of the construct. He steps forward nonetheless, his curiosity outweighing his apprehension. The journey is swift, unnaturally so. It isn''t long before the horizon shifts again¡ªthis time revealing something none of them are prepared for. The city unfolds beneath them like something out of legend. Veltha''s breath catches in her throat. "This... this is not possible." Thurn leans forward, mandibles clicking in stunned silence. He struggles to comprehend what he''s seeing. "Wow... If someone told me this is a domain of a god, I will believe them." Groth, for the first time in centuries, is completely speechless. His fingers tremble against his staff as he gazes down at the sprawling metropolis. "How... how could something like this exist here in the forest, without us knowing?" Alix, seated comfortably, watches their reactions with mild amusement. "It doesn''t just exist," he says coolly. "It belongs to me." As they descend toward the central plaza, the true weight of their reality sets in. The city isn''t just enormous¡ªit''s filled with power. Below them, figures move with disciplined precision. The city''s guards stand in formation, their armor gleaming under the strange, ambient glow of the metropolis. Each one radiates strength, without a doubt, just as strong as the three former lords, if not stronger. Thurn stiffens. "This... this can''t be right," he mutters. "They''re... they''re as strong as us." Veltha''s coils tighten, unease rippling through her massive frame. "No," she corrects, her voice low. "Some of them are stronger." Thorn''s expression darkens. "Impossible," he breathes, but deep down, he knows what he''s seeing is real. These aren''t ordinary soldiers. Alix steps out first, descending gracefully onto the smooth, polished ground. The moment he does, the guards all kneel, a synchronized display of absolute obedience. He turns back to the three. "Welcome to my kingdom," Alix says, his crimson gaze gleaming with cold amusement. "And to the new order of this world." -------- The meeting room is vast yet minimalistic, its dark stone walls lined with faintly glowing runes. A large circular table sits at the center, its polished surface reflecting the flickering light of arcane lamps. Alix sits at the head of the table, his fingers interlocked as he surveys the four figures before him¡ªNyssara, Thurn, Veltha, and Groth. His voice is calm, yet carries an edge of authority. "I heard you had a plan," he says, his crimson gaze flicking between them. "What is it?" Groth, the eldest among them, leans slightly on his gnarled staff, his ember-like eyes glinting with calculation. "Your Majesty," he begins, his voice rough like crackling fire, "the plan is to attack Misorn City." Alix raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Whose plan?" "It''s Tolga''s plan," Groth admits. At the mention of the name, Alix tilts his head slightly. "Tolga..." he repeats, as if testing the name on his tongue. Then, his gaze sharpens. "Does any of you know where this Tolga is?" The four exchange glances. "No," Thurn mutters. Before the silence drags, Nyssara speaks up. "But we do have a meeting scheduled next month, Your Highness," she says, her golden eyes steady. "Tolga will come." Alix glances at her. "Next month?" he echoes. She nods. "Yes." A moment passes before Alix leans back slightly. "That''s four days," he muses. His fingers drum lightly against the table. "I suppose I can wait." Alix lets the silence linger for a moment, then leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. His crimson eyes flicker as he studies the four before him. "So," he says evenly, "just like I asked Nyssara¡ªdo you want to live in the city?" He gestures subtly toward Nyssara. "She''s already brought all her Arachne subordinates here." His gaze sweeps over them, waiting. Groth doesn''t hesitate. He slams his staff against the floor with a loud thud and bows his head. "I will, Your Majesty. Without a doubt." Thurn exhales sharply through his mandibles, glancing at Nyssara, then back at Alix. "It''d be foolish not to," he mutters. Then, more firmly, "I''ll bring my people here." Veltha coils slightly, her eyes narrowing as she processes the offer. After a moment, she flicks her tail against the ground, her voice steady. "I''ll come as well." Alix nods, as if he expected nothing less. "Good." The four bow their heads in unison. As the four leave the chamber, Alix leans back in his chair, exhaling softly. Once the room falls silent, Alix lifts his hand and calls forth his status screen. A translucent panel materializes before him, glowing faintly with golden letters. His eyes scan the information displayed, his expression unreadable. Chapter 31: Mage Tower Aetheris Spire. "I still need ten thousand citizens to unlock my level to 400," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers tap against the armrest of his chair as he calculates. Nyssara brought in around a hundred subordinates¡ªintelligent, capable, and loyal. He assumes Thurn, Veltha, and Groth''s subordinates will number the same. Even so, it won''t be enough. By dawn, the three former lords arrive with their subordinates. Veltha brings the largest group¡ªover two hundred of her kin, their serpentine bodies slithering through the streets in disciplined rows. Their sheer size demands vast spaces, so they claim one of the largest properties in the area, a fortress-like structure near the western district. Thurn leads just over a hundred of his Arachne warriors, all efficient and orderly. Groth, however, arrives with only around twenty. Alix frowns slightly at the small number but says nothing at first. When he visits Groth''s new quarters, he finds the fire-wielding humanoids already at work¡ªconjuring flames, forging weapons, and reinforcing their new home with precise craftsmanship. Curious, Alix opens his system and examines Groth''s status. The glowing text appears before him: [Groth ¨C Level 299 ¨C Peak Tier 2 Mage] Alix hums in thought before speaking. "Groth, I can feel it¡ªyou''re already at the peak of Tier 2." Groth inclines his head slightly, his ember-like eyes flickering. "Yes, Your Majesty," he confirms. "I have reached my limit. I only need a Tier 3 spell to break through." Alix crosses his arms, considering this. This world''s system is different from the games he knows. In a game, leveling up is simple¡ªyou kill enemies, gain experience, and progress. But here, strength isn''t just about numbers. It requires talent, effort, and the right opportunities. "A Tier 3 spell, huh..." Alix murmurs. He glances around, watching the blacksmiths at work. Sparks fly as hammers strike molten metal, shaping weapons with practiced efficiency. Despite their smaller numbers, Groth''s kin are clearly skilled craftsmen. "I see your kin are quite adept at forging weapons," Alix remarks. Groth nods. "Yes, Your Majesty. We usually get ores from Nyssara and forge them to sell in town." At that, Alix raises an eyebrow. "Now that I think about it... why didn''t you four claim the town for yourselves?" Groth exhales, shaking his head. "We couldn''t, Your Majesty. That town was built by the human leaders of Misorn City. It was meant to be a trade hub between humans and monsters. If any of us had taken it by force, the humans would have retaliated swiftly." He pauses. "Someone did try once." Alix leans forward slightly, "Oh, that''s right¡ªGroth, gather all your kin who know how to forge. I have a new task for them." Realization dawns in Groth''s eyes, and he bows slightly. "A brilliant plan, Your Majesty. I''ll gather my best smiths at once." Alix gives a curt nod before turning away. With a flick of his fingers, he summons a communication window through the system. "Draya," he calls. Moments later, her smooth voice echoes back. "Yes, Your Majesty?" "I have a job for you. Groth''s people can forge weapons. Take them to the workshop and get them started." She replies. "Understood, Your Majesty. I''ll handle it." Alix closes the communication and turns to Groth. "Come with me," he says, his tone leaving no room for discussion. Groth doesn''t question it. He simply nods and follows. The two walk in silence, moving through the grand streets of the city. The architecture shifts subtly as they go¡ªmassive stone structures give way to towering spires lined with glowing runes. The deeper they go, the denser the mana in the air becomes. Groth begins to feel it¡ªan overwhelming surge, like an invisible tide pressing against his very soul. The sensation is almost suffocating. Each step forward is like wading into a storm, his body instinctively resisting the sheer force of the energy surrounding them. By the time they arrive, Groth is breathing heavily. He looks up, his ember-like eyes widening. Before them stands a colossal tower, so tall it vanishes into the sky. Dark stone spirals upward, etched with thousands of intricate runes that pulse like a living thing. Streams of raw mana flow along its surface, weaving in and out like veins of liquid light. The air hums with power, crackling with an intensity that makes Groth''s skin prickle. His grip tightens on his staff as he forces himself to speak. "Your Majesty... what is this place?" His voice comes out strained, the sheer weight of mana pressing down on him. "I can feel... a massive concentration of energy. It''s... like a tsunami crashing down on me." Alix glances at him, amused by his reaction. "Welcome to the Mage Tower of the city¡ªAetheris Spire." Groth swallows hard, still trying to steady himself. "Aetheris... Spire..." He repeats the name, reverence creeping into his voice. Alix steps forward, placing a hand against the stone. The runes nearest to him glow brighter in response, as if acknowledging his presence. "Aetheris Spire is the heart of all magic in my domain. Every spell cast within my city is strengthened by its influence." He turns his gaze to Groth. "And it''s where you will obtain your Tier 3 spell." He grips his staff tighter, his ember-like eyes blazing. "What must I do, Your Majesty?" Alix gives him a small, knowing smile. "Nothing," he says. "It''s in you. If you understand the Tier 3 skill, you will attain it." Groth furrows his brow slightly but nods. He knows better than to question Alix''s words. Instead, he follows him inside. The exterior of Aetheris Spire is unlike anything Groth has ever seen. The walls shimmer as though woven from light and shadow, shifting in ways his mind struggles to comprehend. But what strikes Groth as odd is the emptiness , no mages. A place so vast, so powerful, should be teeming with life, yet there isn''t a single soul in sight. His instincts urge him to ask, but he resists. He has no desire to be seen as prying. If Alix wants him to know, he will tell him. If not, then it is not his place to ask. Chapter 32: Codex Of Ascendance Alix notices Groth''s silence and gives an approving nod. Good. He knows when to hold his tongue. Alix continues walking, unfazed by the emptiness, while Groth silently follows, his eyes darting around in curiosity. The vastness of Aetheris Spire is even more overwhelming inside than it was outside. Despite its already colossal size, the interior feels impossibly larger, as though space itself bends to accommodate its presence. Runes flicker along the curved walls, shifting like constellations in an eternal night sky. Strange devices, whose purposes Groth cannot begin to fathom, rest upon floating platforms. Some hum softly with arcane energy, while others pulse with eerie light. Groth has no idea what they are, but their mere presence radiates power beyond his comprehension. At the center of the hall, there''s a raised platform¡ªperhaps a service desk or a reception area¡ªbut it stands completely abandoned. They move toward a grand staircase that leads to the second floor. Unlike the solid structures below, these steps are translucent, shifting between states of matter¡ªsometimes glass-like, sometimes resembling liquid light. Each step sends ripples through the air, as if disturbing the very fabric of space. When they reach the second floor, the atmosphere shifts. The magic here is different¡ªdenser, refined. The very air vibrates with unseen forces, making Groth''s skin tingle. And at the center of the chamber, floating in perfect stillness, is a glowing orb. It is unlike any magical artifact Groth has ever seen. It pulses, not with chaotic energy, but with controlled, rhythmic waves, as if breathing. It is neither too bright nor blinding, yet looking at it fills him with an overwhelming sense of vastness. Groth stops walking, unable to tear his eyes away. "Your Majesty... what is that?" His voice comes out softer than intended. Alix steps beside him, gazing at the orb with a faint, unreadable smile. "That is the Codex of Ascendance." Groth''s ember-like eyes widen slightly. "Codex... of Ascendance?" He repeats the name, reverence creeping into his tone. Alix nods. "It stores all Tier 1 to Tier 3 magic of this tower." Groth''s gaze remains locked onto the glowing orb. He can feel its energy resonating in the air, a silent hum pressing against his skin. His fingers twitch slightly, eager yet wary of the power before him. Before he can step forward, Alix speaks again. "Before you try it, don''t you have some of your kin who are also mages?" Groth blinks, collecting his thoughts. "Yes, Your Majesty. I have ten apprentices and two Tier 1 mages among my kin." Alix nods in approval. "Good. Then I''ll teach you how to use this. After that, you''ll bring them here." Groth bows slightly. "Thank you, Your Majesty." Alix gestures toward the orb. "Place your hand on it." Groth hesitates for only a second before extending his arm. The moment his palm touches the surface, his vision blurs, and his entire being is pulled into the orb. When his consciousness settles, Groth finds himself in a vast space unlike anything he has ever seen. Rows upon rows of towering bookshelves stretch into the distance, their golden inscriptions pulsing faintly. The air is thick with magic, and every step he takes seems to leave a trail of ember-like sparks behind him. "A library..." he murmurs, awe-struck. But this is no ordinary library. The sheer presence of knowledge here feels alive, as if the very walls are whispering forgotten secrets. He doesn''t waste time. He moves swiftly through the endless aisles, searching. His instincts guide him toward a particular section¡ªFire Element Tier 3 spells. The tomes in this section radiate warmth, some even flickering with small flames as if eager to be chosen. Groth scans the shelves, running his fingers along the spines of books that seem to pulse in anticipation. Then, one title catches his eye¡ªInfernal Surge ¨C Releases a concentrated wave of flames that burns everything in a straight path. He reaches out, gripping the book''s cover. The moment his fingers make contact, a surge of power rushes through him, and his surroundings begin to fade. Groth gasps as he finds himself back in the real world, his breathing heavy. He blinks rapidly, his vision adjusting, and then he looks down. The book is still in his hands. His heart pounds. It''s real. He turns to Alix, unable to mask his disbelief. "Your Majesty... this..." He lifts the tome slightly. "It truly exists?" Alix smirks. "Did you think it was an illusion?" Groth shakes his head slowly. "No... but this power... It''s as if the knowledge was calling to me." "That''s how the Codex works," Alix states. "It doesn''t give knowledge¡ªyou take it. And now that you''ve done it once, you''ll be able to guide your kin through the process." Groth bows deeply. "I understand, Your Majesty. I will bring them at once." Alix nods, satisfied. "Now that you know how to use it, I''ll leave you to it." Groth hesitates for a moment before speaking. "Your Majesty... may I stay here?" Alix glances at him, raising an eyebrow. "You wish to live in the Spire?" Groth inclines his head. "Yes, Your Majesty. This place... it calls to me. The magic here is unlike anything I''ve ever felt before. I believe my growth will be faster if I remain within its walls." Alix considers his words before giving a small nod. "Very well. There are rooms here on the second floor. You may choose one for yourself." Groth bows deeply. "Thank you, Your Majesty." Alix says nothing more. Instead, he raises his hand and activates his system. A translucent interface appears before him, displaying a map of the capital city. With a simple thought, he selects his destination¡ªhis workspace. In an instant, his body shimmers with blue light, and a second later, he vanishes. Alix reappears in his workspace, the familiar sight of his personal chambers greeting him. The room is lined with shelves filled with documents, reports, and magical artifacts. A large desk sits at the center, its surface neatly arranged. Chapter 33: Groth Succeed Alix leans back in his chair, exhaling softly. His fingers drum against the wooden desk as he opens his system menu once more. The city''s progress, population count, and the status of his subordinates are all displayed before him in crisp, floating text. "I guess I can only wait for now," he murmurs to himself. His eyes narrow slightly as he considers Groth''s potential. "If he can really reach Level 300 using the skill books of the game... that would be incredible." It''s not just about Groth''s personal strength¡ªit''s about what it means. Because right now, his strongest subordinates, the ones he can revive, are limited. Their levels are fixed, unable to grow beyond what they were in the game. Alix frowns. "And since everything in this city is still bound to the game mechanics... then my subjects shouldn''t be able to level up either." Alix exhales, crossing his arms. "But if this works..." His gaze sharpens. "I can also sell these skill books in the human kingdom and make a fortune in gold coins. Because that''s what I need most right now." The idea lingers in his mind. Magic of this caliber¡ªstructured, guaranteed, and instantly learnable¡ªwould be priceless to the right buyers. Nobles, academies, even rogue mercenaries would kill for something like this. He leans back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the armrest. "I''ll deal with that later. First, I need results." Three days pass. On the morning of the third day, as Alix reviews reports in his workspace, a faint ripple disturbs the air beside him. Without turning, he already knows who it is. A shadowy figure materializes, kneeling before him. "Your Majesty," the shadow reports in a low, steady voice. "Groth has succeeded." Alix stops, his fingers pausing mid-motion over his desk. His eyes narrow slightly, processing the words. "Successful?" he repeats, leaning forward. "Are you certain?" "Yes, Your Majesty. Groth has reached Level 300. His kin have also begun their ascension." Without another word, Alix opens his system and selects his destination. Aetheris Spire. In an instant, blue light engulfs him, and his surroundings distort. When the glow fades, he stands once more inside the towering structure. The second floor hums with magic. As he steps forward, his gaze falls upon Groth and his kin. Groth stands at the forefront, his presence markedly different from before. His aura burns hotter, more controlled, yet undeniably powerful. The embers in his eyes flickers, and the very air around him wavers slightly from residual heat. Behind him, a dozen mages kneel, their expressions a mix of awe and reverence. The magic in their bodies is still stabilizing, but the change is undeniable. Alix folds his arms, studying the scene. "It seems you''ve done well," he says. Groth steps forward and bows deeply. "Your Majesty, I have ascended." His voice holds none of the uncertainty from before¡ªonly conviction. "The Codex of Ascendance has granted me power beyond what I ever thought possible. And my kin... they are following the same path." Alix nods, his expression unreadable. "Then tell me¡ªwhat has changed?" Groth clenches his fist, and a faint heat radiates from his body. "My control over fire has evolved. It no longer burns uncontrollably but bends to my will. I have gained knowledge beyond mere spells¡ªI now understand the flow of magic itself. If I train further, I believe I can reach even greater heights." Alix listens, but his true focus is elsewhere. Without drawing attention, he subtly opens his system. A translucent screen materializes before his eyes¡ªvisible only to him. [Groth] Level: 301 (Tier 3 Mage) Race: Salamander Class: Mage He closes the screen with a mere thought before speaking again. "You have done well, Groth. Your progress is impressive." Groth lowers his head. "I only succeeded because of Your Majesty''s guidance." Alix waves off the formality. "Spare me the flattery. What matters is what comes next." He scans the group of mages behind Groth. "Your kin¡ªhow many have reached Tier 2?" Groth turns slightly, glancing at them. "Two have ascended to tier 2, and five become a tier 1 mage. The remaining five are still adapting to the power. But given time, they will all rise." Alix considers this, his mind already calculating the possibilities. "Good. You will oversee their training. Make sure they do not stagnate." Groth places a fist over his chest. "As you command, Your Majesty." Alix gives a small nod, then his expression turns sharp. "Also, today is the meeting of you five regarding the attack on Misorn City." Groth''s embers flare slightly at the mention. "Yes, Your Majesty," he replies without hesitation. Alix tilts his head. "Gather Nyssara, Thurn, and Veltha. The meeting must proceed without delay." Groth bows. "At once, Your Majesty." He turns swiftly, his robes flowing behind him as he moves with purpose. As Groth leaves to summon the others, Alix remains where he is, his mind already shifting to the next stage of his plan. --- The forest is quiet¡ªunnaturally so. A thick canopy above shrouds the ground in darkness, the air dense with the scent of damp earth and moss. The only sounds are the faint crunch of boots against fallen leaves and the occasional rustle of shifting branches. Alix moves without a sound, his body concealed beneath the effects of his invisibility artifact. Beside him, Grixx, his follows in absolute silence. Ahead, Groth, Nyssara, Thurn, and Veltha walk toward the designated meeting area¡ªa clearing deep within the forest, far from prying eyes. They move with purpose, their conversation low and focused. But Alix''s attention is elsewhere. Tolga. He needs to confirm this monster''s level before making a decision. If Tolga is over level 600, forcing him under his rule would be a little hard for now. A being of that strength wouldn''t submit unless broken beyond recognition, and Alix doesn''t have the manpower¡ªor reluctant to use his items¡ªfor that. But based on this forest''s ecosystem, it''s unlikely. The monsters here are weak¡ªbarely above level 100. Even the strongest creatures should only hover around the 300s. That''s where his estimation of Tolga lies. Chapter 34: Tolga Submitted (part 1) A faint shimmer flickers in Alix''s vision as he activates his system scan, focusing on the approaching figure. [Scanning Target...] [Target Identified: Tolga] [Race: Rakshas] [Class: Assassin] [Level: 341] Alix exhales slowly. As expected. He whispers, his voice barely audible. "Three hundred forty-one." Grixx, still invisible, tilts his head. "Want me to take him out now, your majesty?" His voice is like a blade scraping against stone¡ªrough and cold. Alix whispers, his voice barely a breath. "Not yet. Let''s hear what their plan is to take over Misorn City first." Grixx nods slightly, though he remains as still as a shadow. "Understood." They stay hidden as Groth, Nyssara, Thurn, and Veltha step into the clearing. Then, Tolga emerges. The assassin moves with a deliberate, measured grace. Tolga''s two daggers resting at his hips, barely reflecting the dim light. His eyes scan the group as if weighing their worth. The moment Tolga steps forward, Thurn smirks and raises a hand in greeting. "Yo, Tolga. Long time no see." Tolga pauses, then lets out a low chuckle. "Thurn. It''s been a while." His voice is smooth, but there''s an underlying sharpness to it. Behind Thurn, Groth, Nyssara, and Veltha remain quiet, their expressions unreadable. There was a time when Tolga felt like an enigma to them. But after witnessing Alix''s kingdom, the power it holds, and the strength they''ve gained... Tolga no longer seems as untouchable. Nyssara steps forward, her tone neutral. "We have business to discuss." Tolga flicks his gaze toward her, then at the rest of the group. "Straight to business, huh? Fine by me." He steps closer, his presence sharp and contained. Tolga''s eyes gleam as he folds his arms. "So, everyone are ready for the invasion?" The four nod. "Good," Tolga continues, his tone casual yet firm. "I also managed to amass five hundred monsters to join us." Thurn raises a brow, impressed. "That''s quite something, considering the monsters in this forest aren''t exactly the obedient type. It''s hard to make them follow anyone." Tolga smirks. "Well, they''re not really my subordinates¡ªmore like opportunists. They''re joining us to ransack, abduct, and because they simply want to kill some humans." Nyssara''s expression remains unreadable, but there''s a sharpness in her gaze. "That''s natural. We''re doing this for revenge too, right, Thurn?" She turns her head slightly, looking at him. Thurn''s usual smirk fades, replaced by something colder¡ªsomething darker. "Yeah," he mutters. "For revenge." Nyssara''s gaze hardens. Unlike the others, she doesn''t just want this attack¡ªshe needs it. She and Thurn are from the same tribe. Once, they had a home, deep within the web-laced caverns. A thriving colony, hidden from the outside world. But the humans came. They raided their home, slaughtered their kind, and set fire to the tunnels, leaving nothing behind but ash and corpses. Their parents had died in that massacre. Thurn''s voice is low, rough. "Those bastards thought we were just monsters to be exterminated. Like we didn''t have a place in this world." Nyssara nods. "That''s why Misorn City will burn. They''ll understand what it feels like to lose everything." Tolga watches them for a moment, then shrugs. "Fair enough. As long as we all get what we want, I don''t really care about the reasons." His smirk widens. "I just want to see some blood." Alix moves silently, staying close enough to hear every word. So, they''re from the same tribe... That explains their bond. Though Nyssara has changed¡ªher body no longer fully Arachne after consuming those ores in the caverns. It altered her. Strengthened her. But that''s not important right now. Alix has no intention of stopping the invasion. This is exactly what he wants¡ªto use these five to set the stage. Sure, he could take Misorn City himself. His remaining soldiers are more than enough to crush it. But there''s no need to rush. Caution is key. Decision made, Alix steps forward. The air distorts. A pulse of power ripples through the clearing as two figures materialize out of thin air¡ªAlix and Grixx. The effect is immediate. Groth, Nyssara, Thurn, and Veltha drop to one knee without hesitation, their heads bowed in absolute submission. Tolga freezes. His eyes widen, body tensing as his instincts scream at him. He hadn''t sensed anything¡ªnot a trace of movement, not a flicker of presence. Yet now, two figures just appeared. His gaze snaps to Alix. Unlike the others, this man isn''t bowing. He stands. Unshaken. In control. "...Who the hell¡ª" Tolga starts, but his words falter as realization dawns. The four are kneeling. Not just kneeling, but with complete reverence. Like true subordinates before a ruler. The tension in the air shifts. A cold weight settles in Tolga''s gut. Tolga''s instincts take over. Stealth. His body flickers and vanishes, melding into the shadows. Disappear. Escape. Assess. But before he can even move a step¡ª "Tier 2 Spell: Dispelling Gaze." A surge of magic erupts from Groth, his eyes glowing with energy. A pulse of raw anti-magic sweeps through the clearing, tearing through Tolga''s concealment. In an instant, Tolga reappears, fully exposed. Damn it! His mind races. How did Groth react so fast?! Before he can react further, the ground beneath him shudders. A shadow looms over him. Grixx is gone from his previous spot. No, not gone. He''s already behind him. A massive, scaled hand rests on Tolga''s shoulder. What should be a simple touch feels like an avalanche crashing down. Tolga''s knees nearly buckle. A suffocating weight¡ªnot just physical, with pure dominance¡ªpresses into his body like a mountain threatening to crush him. Grixx''s voice rumbles beside his ear, low and absolute. "Try that again, and I''ll break you." Tolga clenches his teeth. His instincts scream at him to fight, to run¡ªbut his body refuses to move. Alix finally speaks. His voice is calm. Absolute. "Come and sit down." Tolga exhales sharply. No choice. He nods stiffly. Grixx lifts his hand, the crushing force vanishing instantly, as if it was never there. Tolga takes a slow step forward, keeping his posture guarded¡ªbut inside, he knows. He just lost control of this entire situation. Chapter 35: Tolga Submitted (part 2) Alix watches Tolga sit, his expression unreadable. The assassin keeps his posture tense, his eyes flickering between Alix and the four kneeling figures. Then, Alix speaks, his tone even. "I''m not here to stop you. In fact, I will support you." Tolga blinks, caught off guard. "What?" Nyssara looks up, eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you sure, Your Majesty?" Alix meets her gaze. "Of course. You are my subjects now. If you want revenge, then I will help you take it." A heavy silence follows. The words sink in. Tolga leans forward, fingers interlaced, his usual smirk gone. "Who are you, really?" His crimson eyes flicker toward the four. "And you... You really submitted? Never crossed my mind that any of you would bow to anyone." Thurn exhales, shaking his head. "Tolga, we''ve known each other for a long time. That''s why I''ll give you some advice¡ªdo the same." He looks Tolga dead in the eye. "His Majesty promised to make us stronger. And he''s already delivered." Groth chuckles, rolling his shoulders. "That''s true. Look at me. You don''t notice anything different?" Tolga studies him for a second. Then, his expression shifts. His sharp instincts pick up on the subtle difference¡ªthe weight of Groth''s mana, the sheer depth of his presence. Tolga''s fingers tighten slightly. "You... You''re a Tier 3 Mage now?" His voice is quiet, but laced with disbelief. Groth grins. "Took you long enough to notice." Tolga''s eyes narrow. "But how? You didn''t have any Tier 3 spells to study." Groth leans back, smirking. "His Majesty gave me one." He lifts a hand, letting a faint arc of deep blue mana crackle between his fingers. The power is undeniable. "And in His Majesty''s kingdom, Tier 3 skills and spells are as common as cabbage." Tolga''s breath stills for a moment. As common as cabbage? That''s ridiculous. But Groth doesn''t look like he''s joking. Alix watches Tolga''s reaction, amused. That''s right, entice him more. Groth is playing his role perfectly. Then, Alix tilts his head slightly, his tone calm but piercing. "And you, Tolga? What''s your reason for attacking the humans? Revenge... or something else?" The four immediately turn their attention to Tolga. They''ve asked this question before. Many times. And every time, Tolga pretended not to hear. A heavy silence stretches between them. Tolga''s fingers tap against the table. A habit. Restless. Guarded. But this time... Tolga doesn''t evade. For a long moment, Tolga says nothing. Then¡ªfinally¡ªa sigh. "I have someone important who is being held captive in Misorn City." The words are quiet. Almost reluctant. Thurn''s eyes narrow slightly. Tolga exhales again, voice steadier now. "Some humans took my little sister... a long time ago." Alix watches carefully, noting the slight strain in Tolga''s voice. The edges of something long buried. "Years later, after I became strong, I immediately started searching for her. And I found out..." Tolga''s crimson eyes darken. "That she is now a slave of that damn bastard. The city lord of Misorn City." A cold stillness settles in the clearing. No one speaks. Thurn''s jaw clenches. Groth''s smirk vanishes. Nyssara''s gaze sharpens. Even Veltha, who had remained silent all this time, lowers his head slightly, a rare moment of respect. Alix, however, remains calm. "I see." Tolga shifts slightly, then¡ªwithout warning¡ªreaches for the clasp at her neck. With a single motion, she pulls off the heavy robe draped over her shoulders. The reaction is immediate. Thurn stiffens. Groth''s eyes widen. Nyssara''s expression flickers¡ªshock, realization, and something else. Even Alix, who rarely shows surprise, raises a brow. Tolga... is a girl. Her frame, hidden for so long beneath layers of loose clothing, is lean but undeniably feminine. Her features¡ªsharp yet delicate¡ªhold an unnatural beauty. Ethereal. And yet, it''s not just her gender that shocks them. It''s her appearance. Even with her inhuman traits¡ªthe slightly elongated pupils, the faint traces of scales along her arms, the unnatural glow of her crimson eyes¡ªshe is beautiful. Not just beautiful. Striking. Mesmerizing. As beautiful as an elf. The realization settles over them like a weight. Tolga crosses her arms, her crimson eyes flickering between them. "This is the reason my little sister got hunted." Her voice is calm, but there''s an edge to it¡ªresentment, maybe even guilt. Alix watches her for a moment, then nods. "I can help you achieve that." Alix leans forward slightly, his tone even. "Revenge. Freedom. Power. Whatever it is you truly want." He lets the words settle before continuing, "And more importantly, I can get your sister back safely as soon as the invasion begins." The fire in Tolga''s eyes wavers. Just for a second. "You can really do that?" Alix holds her gaze, unwavering. "I can." Silence stretches between them. Thurn, Groth, Nyssara, and Veltha stay quiet, their eyes locked on Tolga. They''ve never seen her hesitate before. Never seen her uncertain. Tolga''s fingers twitch. A habit. A tell. Then, she exhales sharply. "And what do you want in return?" Alix''s answer comes without hesitation. "Loyalty." Tolga''s jaw tightens. "Submit to me," Alix continues. "Swear an oath, and I will make sure you get your sister back." The air grows heavier. Tolga clenches her fists. Submitting to someone¡ªshe''s never done that. Never even considered it. But... her sister. That damn city lord. The years of searching. Of coming up empty. Of knowing that the man who stole her only family still breathes, still rules, while her sister suffers. She inhales deeply, then exhales. Tolga stares at Alix, the weight of his words pressing down on her. Then, slowly, she kneels. The four watch in silence, their expressions unreadable. Even Groth, usually quick with a smirk or remark, remains still. Tolga places a fist over her heart, crimson eyes locked onto Alix''s. "I, Tolga, swear my loyalty to you, Alix. My strength, my life, and my revenge¡ªall will be under your command. In return, you will help me find and free my sister." A sudden pulse of energy ripples through the air. A golden glow surrounds Tolga for a brief moment before fading, as if something unseen has been sealed. Chapter 36: The Attack Began Then, a notification appears in Alix''s mind. [System Alert: Tolga has sworn fealty. She is now recognized as your subject.] Alix nods, satisfied. "Good. Then there''s no need to wait any longer." Tolga rises to her feet, her expression unreadable. "What do you mean?" Alix looks at her, his voice calm but firm. "Start your plan now." The others tense slightly at his words, exchanging glances.Tolga narrows her eyes. Alix smirks. "Your forces are ready, aren''t they? Why wait until tomorrow? Every second we delay, your sister remains in chains." The fire in Tolga''s eyes reignites. Thurn chuckles under his breath. "Hah. I like the way you think, Your Majesty." Groth grins, cracking his knuckles. "No time like the present." Nyssara simply nods, already considering the strategy. Tolga takes a deep breath. Then, she smirks¡ªa sharp, dangerous grin. "You''re right. We move now." The five immediately scatter, each moving with purpose. The night is thick with anticipation as preparations are finalized. Meanwhile, in Misorn City, the streets are alive with festivities. Colorful banners drape over buildings, torches flicker along the stone pathways, and musicians play lively tunes in the town square. Laughter, clinking glasses, and the scent of roasted meat fill the air. At the city gates, a hooded traveler steps inside, glancing around in confusion. He tugs on a passing man''s sleeve. "What''s going on here?" The man grins, already a little tipsy. "Tonight''s a grand occasion! Lord Vylan is getting married." The traveler pauses. His expression shifts. "What?! Who''s the unlucky woman?" The drunken man''s grin falters. He leans in, lowering his voice. "It is a woman. But not human." The traveler stiffens. "...What?" The man glances around as if checking for eavesdroppers. Then, he whispers, "It''s a monster." A sharp silence stretches between them. The traveler''s eyes widen in shock. "What? Has Lord Vylan finally gone mad?" The man shrugs uneasily. "Who knows? Some say he''s obsessed. Either way, the wedding is happening." He takes another swig from his flask. "And we''re all supposed to celebrate it." The traveler exhales, gaze darkening. "This city has truly fallen into madness..." Suddenly¡ª A deep, resounding horn of war reverberates across the city, shattering the festive atmosphere in an instant. The joyous laughter turns into horrified screams. Panic erupts. Drunken citizens stumble, eyes widening in fear. The music abruptly stops, instruments clattering to the ground as the musicians flee. Soldiers rush to the walls, boots pounding against stone as they scramble to take their positions. On the ramparts, a young guard grips his spear tightly, his hands trembling. He stares out into the darkness beyond the gates, his face paling. "...M-Monsters..." His voice barely escapes his throat. Another guard beside him follows his gaze¡ªand nearly drops his weapon in terror. An army. A sea of monstrous figures¡ªwolves with gleaming fangs, towering ogres, winged creatures circling in the sky¡ªstretching far into the horizon. One soldier staggers back, his breathing ragged. "T-There''s too many..." The captain, an older man with a scarred face, rushes to the wall, his eyes widening as he takes in the sight. His grip tightens on his sword. "This is bad." His voice is grim. "There''s at least a thousand monsters." A nearby soldier swallows hard. "Captain... what do we do?" The captain''s jaw clenches. "We hold the line. Alert the archers! Lock down the gates! Prepare the defenses!" Then, he turns to a messenger. "Go. Report the situation to Lord Vylan immediately." The soldier hesitates, fear flickering in his eyes. "B-But Captain¡ª" The captain grabs him by the shoulder, his expression hard. "Now! And send word to the neighboring city! We need reinforcements!" The soldier stiffens¡ªthen nods and takes off running. The captain exhales sharply, turning back toward the monstrous horde. His knuckles turn white around the hilt of his sword. From above, Alix and Grixx hover in the air, invisible against the darkened sky. Alix observes the battlefield below, his gaze calculating. "Five thousand soldiers... plus one thousand adventurers." His thoughts are cold, detached. "Even with their strength, the five will struggle to conquer this city alone, if there are four humans of equal strength to them." Then¡ª A massive fireball streaks through the night. Groth''s spell ignites the sky like a second sun, casting an ominous glow over the city. The fireball crashes against the outer walls with a deafening explosion. The force shatters stone, sending fragments raining down onto the panicked soldiers below. Flames spread, licking at the wooden battlements. The signal has been given. The monsters roar in unison. Like a tidal wave, they surge forward¡ªa chaos of fur, fangs, and flashing steel. At the front of the charge, Tolga, Thurn, Nyssara, Veltha, and Groth lead the assault. Tolga vanishes into the shadows, her form flickering in and out of sight. The moment a group of archers takes position, their throats bloom with crimson. They fall before they even register what killed them. Screams of pain and terror mix with the roaring battle cries of the invading monsters. On the city walls, the archers barely have time to react. Tolga moves like a phantom, her daggers glinting under the firelit sky. She weaves between the panicked soldiers, slashing throats, piercing hearts, and vanishing before their comrades can scream. A captain sees his men fall and stumbles back. "W-What the hell is¡ª?!" Tolga appears behind him. A cold whisper in his ear. "Your worst nightmare." Her dagger drives through his back. He gasps¡ªthen collapses. Blood pools beneath the bodies, staining the stone. The archers never get a chance to fire. At another section of the wall, Thurn and Nyssara scale the stone with terrifying ease, their arachnid legs moving in perfect synchronization. "Humans panic so easily," Nyssara mutters, her ore-coated limbs gleaming in the firelight. "Let''s see how they handle true terror." Thurn smirks, his fangs dripping with venom. "Then let''s begin." He lunges, his massive spider legs impaling a soldier through the chest. The man chokes, his body twitching as Thurn''s venom works instantly¡ªhis flesh blackens, his eyes roll back, and he drops dead. A nearby swordsman slashes at Thurn''s side. CLANG. His blade bounces off Nyssara''s armored exoskeleton. She glares at him. "Weak." Chapter 37: The Fall Of Misorn City Her fist¡ªhardened with enchanted ore¡ªsmashes into his skull. The man''s head caves in from the sheer force, his body crumpling lifelessly. More soldiers charge at them. Nyssara tears up a section of the stone wall and hurls it at the incoming group. The massive chunk crashes down, crushing three men instantly. Thurn spins, his silk shooting out and snaring an officer. The man struggles, but Thurn yanks him in and bites deep into his neck. The poison melts through his flesh in seconds. On the ground level, Veltha slithers through the battlefield, her massive serpentine body coiling around the city''s defenses. A squad of knights rushes her, shields raised. Veltha grins. "How brave." She lunges, her tail whipping out¡ª CRACK. Three knights go flying from the impact, their armor denting inward from the sheer force. One of them doesn''t move. A fourth knight manages to stab her with a spear. The blade barely pierces her scales. Veltha''s eyes flick down to the weapon, then up to the soldier. She smirks. "My turn." She opens her jaws¡ªunnaturally wide. Fangs as long as daggers gleam in the firelight. The knight''s scream is cut short as Veltha''s fangs sink deep into his body. Poison floods his veins in an instant¡ªhis skin turns purple, his veins bulge, and his eyes roll back. He collapses, convulsing violently before going still. Groth watches the chaos unfold, a wicked grin on his face. "Let''s turn up the heat." He raises his hands, mana crackling. Flames swirl around him, growing larger, hotter. The soldiers below barely have time to react. BOOM. A wave of fire explodes outward. The heat melts armor, flames engulf entire squads, and the city walls blacken from the intensity. Men scream as their flesh burns away. A battalion of adventurers charges through the inferno, weapons drawn. One, a mage, chants a water spell to counter the flames. Groth snaps his fingers. A massive fire lance spears through the mage''s chest. The adventurer chokes on his own blood before the flames consume him entirely. Another warrior leaps at Groth, sword raised. Groth steps back, flicking his wrist. A wall of fire erupts between them. The warrior stumbles, but it''s too late¡ªGroth hurls a fireball at his face. The man bursts into flames, his screams echoing through the battlefield. From high above, Alix and Grixx continue their silent observation. The once-festive city is now a slaughterhouse. Bodies litter the streets¡ªsoldiers, adventurers, and innocent civilians alike. The monstrous horde tears through homes, businesses, and temples like locusts, leaving only ashes and blood in their wake. Screams echo through the air, each one swiftly silenced by blade, fang, or flame. Grixx scoffs, folding his arms. "Your Majesty, these humans are very weak." His tone is almost disappointed. "They only have two warriors above level 200, and even they aren''t much of a challenge." Alix, hovering beside him, barely reacts. His crimson gaze sweeps across the carnage below, cold and unreadable. "Yeah," he murmurs. "I overestimated them. But they''re even weaker than I thought." He watches as the monsters butcher civilians with the same ferocity as they did the soldiers. A young woman cries out for mercy, clutching a child in her arms. A monstrous beast looms over her, drool dripping from its fanged maw. Without hesitation, it rips into them both. Nearby, a nobleman tries to flee through a back alley. A shadowy figure¡ªTolga¡ªsteps in front of him. "P-Please! I''m just a merchant!" the man stammers, raising his hands. "I can pay you¡ª" Tolga doesn''t let him finish. A dagger slides across his throat. He collapses, gasping, his blood pooling into the dirt. Alix watches it all with detached indifference. He feels nothing. No satisfaction. No regret. Just the simple reality that Misorn City is falling, and it is his will that made it happen. In the city Lords mansion, the city''s two strongest warriors make their final stand. Sir Daren, the strongest Knight in the Misorn city, and Lyra the Arcane Blade of Misorn city''s adventurers guild. Both are seasoned warriors, each above level 200, clad in enchanted armor, weapons glowing with power. Daren''s greatsword gleams, slicing through monstrous flesh with precise, devastating arcs. His shield deflects incoming attacks, holding back the tide. Lyra moves like a shadow, her blades leaving trails of arcane energy as she cuts down enemy after enemy. "Hold the line!" Daren roars, his voice firm despite the odds. Lyra grits her teeth. "Daren, we''re outnumbered a hundred to one! We need to¡ª" A massive shadow falls over them. Veltha. The serpentine monster slithers forward, her fangs dripping with venom. "Oh? You two are strong." Her golden eyes gleam with cruel amusement. Her massive tail lashes out, shattering the stone courtyard beneath them. Daren barely raises his shield in time¡ªthe impact sends him skidding back. Lyra leaps into the air, her blades flashing. She aims for Veltha''s eyes. But¡ª SHLINK. A second tail whips up from below, impaling her through the stomach. Lyra chokes, blood spilling from her lips. Veltha grins. "Too slow." She flings Lyra''s limp body into a nearby wall. The impact shatters bones. Daren stares in horror. "L-Lyra...?" A burning figure descends from the sky. Groth. The fire mage raises a single hand. A pillar of flames erupts around Daren. The knight screams as his armor melts into his skin, his flesh blackening. A moment later, only charred remains are left. After some time, the battle is finally over. The once-proud city of Misorn now burns, its walls crumbling, its people slaughtered. Smoke rises into the sky, a grim signal of Alix''s victory. Alix descends from the sky, his crimson cloak billowing behind him. The air around him hums with power, the embers of destruction reflecting in his cold, unreadable eyes. As his feet touch the ground, Tolga emerges from the mansion. Her expression is one of barely restrained fury. "There''s no one in there!" she spits, her voice sharp with frustration. "That bastard Vylan is gone!" Her hands clench into fists, her usual composure cracking. Chapter 38: Tolgas Real Name She had been hunting the Lord of Misorn, and now, at the moment of his city''s fall, he had vanished. Alix regards her impassively, his crimson eyes flickering with the glow of the burning city. He senses the frustration in her voice, the tension in her stance. "You''re looking for your sister." His voice is calm. "I already told you¡ªI will keep her safe." Tolga hesitates, her sharp expression faltering for just a moment. "I''m not doubting you, Your Majesty," she says quickly. "I just... I''m just worried." Alix doesn''t reply immediately. Instead, he lifts a single hand. "Shadow." At his command, the air around them distorts. Darkness ripples, and suddenly, three figures emerge from the void¡ªcloaked in pitch-black attire, their presence so unnatural it''s as if they were never truly there to begin with. And between them¡ª A young girl, bound but unharmed. Tolga''s breath catches. "...Naira?" The girl resembles her¡ªsame sharp features, same raven-black hair, though her eyes are wide with fear. She looks at Tolga, her body trembling. The leading Shadow operative bows his head. "As you commanded, Your Majesty. She has been secured." Tolga rushes forward, grabbing her sister''s shoulders. "Are you hurt?" Her voice, so often cold and calculating, wavers slightly. Naira blinks rapidly, her expression is shock. "Big si-sister...?" Tears well up in Naira''s eyes, her body trembling before she suddenly breaks down into sobs. She clutches onto Tolga''s arms desperately, her small frame shaking uncontrollably. Tolga pulls her into a tight embrace, pressing Naira''s head against her shoulder. "It''s okay," she murmurs, her voice softer than it has been in years. "You''re safe now. I''ve got you." For four long years, Tolga had chased shadows, following every lead, but that bastard had hidden Naira too well. No matter how ruthless Tolga became, no matter how much blood she spilled, she had never been able to find her sister. Until now. She clenches her jaw, tightening her hold on Naira. The years of failure, of helplessness, of rage¡ªit all threatens to choke her. But none of it matters anymore. Naira is here. The girl sobs into her shoulder, her fingers digging into Tolga''s cloak. "I-I thought you''d never find me..." Tolga shuts her eyes, taking a deep breath. "I would have torn down every kingdom, every city if I had to." Her voice drops lower, filled with quiet fury. Tolga lifts her head, her golden eyes meeting his. Her heart is still racing from the moment she finally held Naira again. She knows that none of this would have been possible without him. She takes a deep breath, steadying herself before speaking. "Your Majesty... thank you. For everything." Her voice is firm, sincere. Alix simply smiles¡ªjust a small, fleeting curve of his lips. "You are my subject now," he says smoothly. "Your problem is my problem." Tolga''s chest tightens. To hear those words from him... it means more than she can say. Alix turns, his gaze sweeping over the ruined city. The fires rage, monstrous monsters still roam freely, reveling in the destruction. He narrows his eyes slightly. "Tell them to stop. Now." There is no hesitation. Nyssara, Thurn, Veltha, and Groth all bow slightly, their voices uniting in unwavering obedience. "As you wish, Your Majesty." The order spreads instantly. The chaos, once unrestrained, begins to settle. As the fires die down and the last echoes of battle fade, Alix turns his gaze back to Tolga. His crimson eyes glint with quiet authority. "Tolga," he says evenly, "now announce to everyone that this city belongs to us monsters." Tolga exhales sharply, the weight of her role settling over her shoulders once again. She gently releases Naira, brushing a hand over the girl''s hair in silent reassurance. Then, without another word, she pulls her robe from her pack, shaking off the dust before slipping it over her shoulders. The familiar fabric conceals her form, its high collar and deep hood casting shadows over her face. No one among the gathered monsters knows she is a woman. And she intends to keep it that way. She steps forward, her presence alone enough to command the attention of everyone. These creatures¡ªbeasts of the forest, outcasts from human lands¡ªhad followed her because she had given them purpose. She had united them when no one else would. They did not know her as a woman, only as their leader. Tolga breathes in, then speaks, her voice ringing clear through the smoke-filled air. "The battle is over. Misorn belongs to us now!" A chorus of growls, roars, and shrieks erupts from the gathered monsters. Some beat their chests, others slam weapons against the ground in triumphant acknowledgment. Tolga raises a hand, silencing them instantly. "This city will not be destroyed further. We will rebuild it in our image. We will make it a stronghold, a home for all who were cast aside!" The monsters stir at her words, excitement rippling through their ranks. She glances at Alix, waiting for his approval. He gives her the smallest nod. But before she can turn back to the crowd, she steels herself, then steps closer to him. Lowering her voice, she says, "Your Majesty, there''s one more thing." Alix arches a brow, waiting. Tolga hesitates only a second before speaking. "My real name is Sorin." Alix doesn''t react immediately. His gaze simply lingers on her, as if weighing the significance of the revelation. Tolga¡ªno, Sorin¡ªholds his gaze, unflinching. "From now on, I want you to call me by my real name. Only you and the others here know the truth, and it needs to stay that way." A beat of silence passes between them. Then, Alix nods once. "Sorin, then." He speaks the name smoothly, as if testing it on his tongue. Days turn into weeks. Under Sorin''s leadership, the monsters settle into the city. What was once a place of ruin and destruction begins to take new shape. Some monsters bring their tribes from the forest, seeking safety within the walls. Others carve out homes in abandoned buildings, reinforcing them with whatever materials they can scavenge. Chapter 39: Sorin The New City Lord Misorn is no longer a human city. It is a city of monsters. Sorin quickly becomes its de facto ruler. She organizes supplies, designates districts for different species, and ensures that the monsters¡ªmany of whom are not used to living in such close quarters¡ªdo not turn on each other. The stronger tribes help build defenses, while the smaller ones contribute in whatever ways they can. Despite the chaotic nature of its inhabitants, the city of Misorn begins to thrive under Sorin''s leadership. Some of the tribes migrate, bringing their customs, crafts, and even strange forms of magic. Roads are cleared, homes repaired, and walls fortified. What was once a ruined human city now becomes something new¡ªsomething entirely monstrous. But with progress comes responsibility. Sorin slumps in her chair, staring at the thick ledger in front of her. With a sigh, she flips it open and runs a gloved hand over the first page. "His Majesty said that I need to make these monsters list their names to be able to live in the city," she mutters to herself. She exhales, rubbing her temples. This is going to be a long day. Before she can dwell on the seemingly endless task ahead, a small, familiar voice calls out. "Big sister!" Sorin lifts her head just as Naira bursts into the room, beaming. The sight of her younger sister instantly lifts the weight from her shoulders. "Naira," Sorin says, a rare softness in her tone. "What are you doing here?" Naira bounces up to her, unbothered by the piles of documents and scattered reports. "I brought you food!" She proudly holds up a wooden tray¡ªthough the food looks like it was thrown together in a hurry. "You always forget to eat when you''re working." Sorin blinks, momentarily caught off guard. A small, amused smirk tugs at her lips. "I suppose I do," she admits, taking the tray. The meal is nothing fancy, but it''s warm, and the effort alone makes it taste better than anything she''s had in a long time. Naira watches her eagerly, then frowns. "You look tired, big sister." Sorin lets out a dry chuckle. "I am." "Why don''t you take a break?" "I wish I could." She gestures at the endless paperwork. "If I stop now, it''ll only pile up more." Naira puffs up her cheeks in frustration, then brightens as if she''s just had an idea. "Then I''ll help!" Sorin raises a brow. "Help?" Naira nods eagerly and pulls up a chair beside her. "I can read and write! You taught me, remember? Just tell me what to do." Sorin hesitates, then exhales. "Alright. But only the simple parts." With Naira beside her, the burden of responsibility feels a little lighter. Meanwhile, outside the city hall, life in Misorn continues to flourish. Thanks to Nyssara, Thurn, Veltha, and Gorth''s subordinates, order is maintained. The once-scattered monster clans find their roles, filling the city''s districts with trade, construction, and strange but effective governance. At Alix''s command, a level 400 captain and five level 200-300 soldiers¡ªhas been stationed in the city. His orders are simple: defend the city at all costs. The warrior is an imposing figure, clad in dark armor that hums with restrained power. He remains silent most of the time, standing guard near Sorin''s quarters. Though she initially finds his presence suffocating, she gradually accepts it as another part of her new reality. The city is alive, growing stronger by the day. And Sorin¡ªonce a lone shadow¡ªnow stands at the heart of it all. ---- The wheels of the luxurious carriage creak as it rolls along the uneven dirt road, the polished wood and golden accents standing in stark contrast to the rugged terrain. Inside, the air is thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and sweat. Vylan lounges lazily on the plush cushions, his obese frame spilling over the fine silk of his robe. His fingers, adorned with gaudy rings, drum impatiently against the armrest as his lips curl into a sneer. "Fuck those monsters," he spits, his voice dripping with irritation. "I should have never waited for the damn wedding to taste that little monster. What a waste." His trusted right-hand man, Garet, sits across from him, maintaining a carefully neutral expression. Outwardly, he remains composed, but inside, he wrestles with disbelief. His lord lost his entire city, and yet, all he cares about is that girl? Garet shifts slightly, clearing his throat. "My lord, if I may... Misorn has fallen to the monsters. Shouldn''t we be discussing how to reclaim it?" Vylan''s face contorts with annoyance. "Reclaim it? Why the fuck would I want that rotten city back now? Those filthy beasts have already tainted it. It''s not worth the effort." He waves a pudgy hand dismissively. "Let the kingdom deal with it. They wanted that miserable city under control? Now they can have it back." Vylan leans back, a lazy grin stretching across his face. "Honestly, I''ve always wanted to get out of that place. A backwater dump, filled with dull, useless people. Now, I can finally return to the capital¡ªwhere I belong." Garet forces himself not to sigh aloud. Vylan isn''t just any noble¡ªhe is the younger brother of the queen. The only reason he was ever given control of Misorn was because of her influence. And despite his clear incompetence, the king had tolerated his rule, merely keeping a close eye on him. But Misorn had been prosperous before Vylan. A city known for its wealth, trade, and strategic position. Under his governance, it had slowly crumbled¡ªmismanagement, excessive taxation, and Vylan''s hedonistic indulgences turning it into a shadow of its former self. And now, it was completely lost. Garet watches his lord closely. There is no regret in his expression, no concern for the people who once served him, nor even the faintest sense of humiliation at losing everything. Just satisfaction at the idea of returning to luxury. Vylan chuckles, rubbing his thick fingers together. "Ahh, the capital. Fine wines, beautiful women, real entertainment. None of that dull, provincial nonsense." His grin widens. Chapter 40: King Edric The grand halls of the royal palace of Eldoria, the heart of the Raltheon Kingdom, shimmer with golden candlelight. The scent of parchment, ink, and old wood fills the air as servants hurry through corridors, their footsteps muffled against thick carpets. Inside the king''s private chamber, a heavy silence hangs in the air. King Edric, a man in his late fifties with silver-streaked hair and sharp, calculating eyes, sits at the long table. His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose as he exhales slowly. A headache pounds behind his temples. Across from him, Marshal Walric, stands rigidly, his posture as straight as a drawn sword. His polished breastplate gleams under the dim candlelight. "Say that again," King Edric says, his voice low but edged with restrained fury. Marshal Walric does not hesitate. "Misorn has fallen, Your Majesty. The city is now in the hands of monsters." King Edric presses his fingertips against his temples, exhaling slowly through his nose. The news is a hammer blow, but he cannot afford to show weakness. He lifts his gaze, sharp as a blade, to Marshal Walric. "How did this happen?" His voice is dangerously calm. Walric does not flinch. "The city was already on the decline, Your Majesty. Corruption, poor leadership... Governor Vylan''s negligence allowed the monsters to gain ground. And without General Aldric there to maintain order, the city was defenseless when the attack came." Edric''s jaw tightens. "Aldric..." He leans back in his chair, folding his hands together. "Remind me why one of my strongest generals was forced to abandon his post?" The marshal''s expression darkens. "Because Governor Vylan drove him out. Heavy taxes, senseless decrees, and a refusal to supply the army. Aldric was left with soldiers who could barely afford to eat, let alone fight. He requested reassignment, and I granted it." Silence stretches between them. Edric clenches his fists, barely resisting the urge to slam them on the table. A level 340 knight¡ªis already a top powerhouse in Raltheon, only to be squandered because of his brother-in-law''s incompetence. And now, the city is lost. Edric exhales sharply. "What of the survivors?" "Most fled before the city fell completely. Some have made it to nearby settlements, but others... reports suggest they were either killed or taken by the monsters." "Taken?" Edric narrows his eyes. Walric hesitates. "What are your orders, Your Majesty?" Edric leans forward, his voice like ice. "First, gather intel on what monster has taken control of the city." "Yes, Your Majesty." The king stands abruptly, pacing toward the massive window that overlooks the capital. Below, the grand city of Eldoria sprawls in elegant streets and towering structures, untouched by the chaos that has befallen Misorn. Edric exhales, rubbing his temple. "This is my fault too," he mutters. Walric remains silent, but the truth is undeniable. The only reason Vylan was given Misorn was because of Edric''s promise to the queen¡ªhis wife. He had turned a blind eye for her sake, believing that Vylan''s failures could be contained. "My wife is such a good soul," Edric murmurs. "And then there''s her brother..." Before he can finish, the doors to the chamber swing open. Queen Nefia rushes inside, her silk gown flowing behind her, her golden hair disheveled. "My love, I heard the news. Please¡ª" Edric turns to her, already knowing what she will ask. His expression hardens. "You want me to spare him from severe punishment?" Tears shimmer in Nefia''s eyes as she nods. "Please, Edric. He is the only family I have left." Edric exhales slowly, his gaze heavy with disappointment. "I can''t promise that, Lysara. What he has done this time... It''s a disaster. Everyone already blames me for letting him govern Misorn in the first place." "I know," she whispers, voice trembling. "But he is my brother." Edric watches her for a long moment. Lysara has always been gentle¡ªtoo gentle for court politics. She sees the world in kindness, even when it does not deserve it. And yet, how many chances has Vylan already squandered? ---- Alix sits in his grand study, the dim glow of enchanted crystals casting a soft light across the spacious room. His sharp eyes remain fixed on the transparent screen floating before him, visible only to him. [Population: 6,437] His fingers drum lightly on the wooden desk as he scans the numbers. "Hmm," Alix mutters. "Misorn is quite large¡ªit could house a hundred thousand, yet we barely have six and a half thousand citizens. The city still feels empty." Beside him, Draya, his ever-loyal maid, stands with perfect posture, her hands neatly folded in front of her. "Draya," Alix says without taking his eyes off the screen. "Do you think the monsters in the surrounding forests are avoiding the city because they don''t feel comfortable living among others?" Draya tilts her head slightly, considering his words. "It is possible, Your Majesty. Many of the forest-dwelling monsters are used to their own territories and way of life. Living in a structured city with unfamiliar species might feel... restrictive to them." Alix exhales, closing the screen with a thought. "Then perhaps we need to change that." Alix leans back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts racing. "What should I do to attract more monsters to the city?" he mutters to himself, tapping his fingers on the desk. A moment later, his eyes widen as an idea strikes him. "Of course... how could I forget about the dungeons?" He thought, ''In the game, dungeons were always a key element. If you placed them in your city, it would attract stronger and more diverse citizens. The higher-tier dungeons, the better the citizens you''d draw in.'' He turns to Draya, his gaze focused. "But I don''t think I''ve seen a dungeon in this forest. Do you think this world even has them?" Draya looks thoughtful for a moment before replying. "I''m not sure, Your Majesty. But there are many things we''ve yet to learn about this world. If dungeons exist, perhaps they are hidden away or have yet to be discovered." Chapter 41: Inside the Dungeon Alix stands, pacing around the room. "A dungeon would definitely attract monster seeking strength, weapons, and skills. Monsters would be drawn to that... to the challenge and the rewards." He stops in his tracks, eyes narrowing in thought. "If there are no dungeons here, then I''ll have to create one myself. A dungeon in Misorn could turn the city into a beacon for monsters." Alix stops pacing, his eyes narrowing as he recalls his inventory. "Let me check what I have," he mutters under his breath, his hand reaching out. The transparent screen flickers back to life, this time showing his inventory. He taps a few times, scrolling through the various items. "I have a lot of low-tier dungeon blueprints," he says aloud. "I just need to gather the resources to build one." He sees the blueprint for a low-tier dungeon. His eyes scan the required materials. "To build this dungeon, I need 500 gold coins... and I have 800 right now." He raises an eyebrow, considering the amount. "That should work. Though it costs 100 gold coins per day to operate, Gorth''s kin can forge around 100 gold coins daily, plus the dungeon entrance fees. So I''ll have more than enough." A few minutes later, Alix arrives at Misorn city, standing at the edge of the gates. The once-dilapidated city now shows signs of rebuilding, but there''s still a noticeable emptiness in the streets. The city seems to be recovering, but not at the pace he expected. Sorin, standing nearby, bows her head respectfully as he approaches. "Your Majesty," she says with a faint smile. Alix looks around, taking in the state of the city. He then turns to Sorin with a thoughtful expression. "Didn''t know you had such a talent for governing a city, Sorin," he says, genuinely impressed. Sorin tilts her head, a bit sheepish. "I did my best, Your Majesty. But it''s been difficult to convince the monsters to settle here." Alix sighs, shaking his head slightly. "I see. Only a few monsters decided to stay." Sorin nods. "Yes, Your Majesty. Many of them prefer their own territories, and the idea of living in a city with so many different kinds of monster is... uncomfortable for some." Alix gives her a reassuring smile. "It''s alright. This time, I''ll make sure those monsters come running to this city." Sorin looks up, her expression curious. "How do you plan to do that, Your Majesty?" Alix gives Sorin a knowing smile, his eyes gleaming with confidence. "You''ll know soon enough." He then looks around, his gaze sharp. "Sorin, I want you to make sure no one comes to this area. Not a soul. Do you understand?" Sorin nods immediately. "Of course, Your Majesty. I will make sure no one approaches." With that, Alix turns away and walks toward the designated area. His thoughts are laser-focused as he prepares for the task ahead. As he steps into the open space, he raises his hand, activating the system. The transparent screen flickers to life, and a series of holographic blueprints appear before him. With a quick command, the system begins to construct the dungeon. The ground trembles lightly as the structure takes shape. Within moments, a sturdy building materializes, resembling an ordinary stone structure¡ªnothing too grand, yet undeniably functional. Alix steps inside the newly constructed dungeon building. The interior is simple¡ªplain stone walls, a few wooden tables, and a single receptionist desk positioned neatly in front of the portal. The only thing that stands out is the shimmering dungeon entrance itself, pulsing faintly with magical energy. The monster receptionist, the same metallic-skinned humanoid from before, bows slightly upon seeing him. "Welcome, Your Majesty," it greets, its voice smooth and polite. Alix nods in acknowledgment, his gaze flickering toward the portal. "Make the entrance fee fifty silver coins," he orders. The receptionist tilts its head slightly, processing the command. "Understood, Your Majesty. The entrance fee is now set at fifty silver coins per entry." Alix crosses his arms, glancing around. The place is functional, but it still lacks the atmosphere of a true dungeon hub. That would change with time¡ªonce word spreads, monsters and adventurers alike will flock here, drawn by the potential rewards within. "Good," Alix murmurs, then turns back to the receptionist. "Is everything else in place? Will the dungeon function properly for challengers?" The receptionist nods. "Yes, Your Majesty. The dungeon is fully operational. Creatures suitable for its tier have already been assigned within. Would you like to inspect the layout personally?" Alix considers the offer for a moment before nodding. "Let''s do that," he says, his curiosity piqued. His gaze flickers to the receptionist. "What''s your name?" The metallic-skinned receptionist straightens slightly. "Laith, Your Majesty." Alix nods in acknowledgment. "Alright, Laith." Without another word, he steps forward, his eyes fixed on the shimmering portal. The magic hums softly, its surface rippling like disturbed water. Without hesitation, he steps through. A moment later, Alix finds himself standing in a dimly lit cave. The air is damp, and the faint echo of dripping water fills the silence. Stalagmites and jagged rocks protrude from the ground, giving the place an eerie, almost foreboding atmosphere. Alix narrows his eyes, scanning his surroundings. The dungeon feels oddly familiar yet different from the usual monster-filled lairs. His senses remain sharp as he takes a cautious step forward, expecting an ambush at any moment. Then, he sees them. Humans. Scattered throughout the cave, groups of armored warriors, thieves, and lightly dressed scouts move with purpose, as if preparing for battle. Some are sharpening their swords, others tending to wounds, and a few are even eating around makeshift campfires. They look like adventurers¡ªmercenaries, and rogue fighters¡ªbut their presence here feels unnatural. Yet, not a single one acknowledges him. Alix frowns, stepping closer. A swordsman in rusted armor walks past him, eyes fixed ahead as if Alix isn''t even there. Another, a thieves muttering under his breath, barely blinks in his direction. "As expected, they don''t see me." Alix murmurs, intrigued. He raises a hand, waving it in front of a passing rogue''s face. Nothing. No reaction. Chapter 42: A Chest With Magical Items Alix continues deeper into the dungeon, observing the human enemies that populate it. Just like in the game, neither he nor his subordinates can challenge the dungeons within his own kingdom. It was a restriction meant to prevent players from farming their own resources. After navigating through winding tunnels, Alix finally reaches a larger cavern, dimly lit by flickering torches. At the center of the room sits a large, rugged-looking man on a throne made of scavenged wood and bones. Around him, several women¡ªcaptives or willing followers, Alix isn''t sure¡ªserve him food and pour wine into his goblet. Alix narrows his eyes. "So this dungeon''s theme is a bandit stronghold," he thinks to himself. The setup is familiar¡ªa chaotic base where bandits gather, plundering the weak, and a leader who reigns over them like a self-proclaimed king. His gaze shifts to the bandit leader. The system immediately provides his details. [Bandit Leader¨C Level 330] "Level 300, huh?" Alix muses. "That should be more than enough for the monsters living in the forest to fight against." With that, he turns around and exits the dungeon. ¡ª Back in the dungeon entrance hall, Alix strides toward the exit, his mind already forming plans. Back at Sorin''s quarter, she stands waiting, her expression calm but curious. "Come with me," Alix says simply. Sorin tilts her head but follows without hesitation. The two of them make their way back into the dungeon building. As soon as they step inside, Sorin''s eyes immediately lock onto the shimmering portal in the center of the room. Her pupils narrow slightly in surprise. "Your Majesty," she says, her voice laced with awe. "What is that?" Alix crosses his arms and smirks. "A dungeon." Sorin frowns slightly, staring at the shimmering portal. "A dungeon?" she repeats, her voice laced with confusion. "What is a dungeon?" Alix''s smirk widens. "You''ll know after you go in." Sorin gives him a wary glance but ultimately nods. Without hesitation, she steps forward, her body passing through the rippling light. The world shifts. In an instant, Sorin finds herself standing in a dimly lit cave. The air is damp, carrying the faint scent of blood and burning wood. Flickering torchlight casts eerie shadows on the jagged rock walls. Her ears twitch at the sound of voices¡ªlow, rough murmurs echoing through the cavern. Her instincts take over. Without thinking, she melts into the shadows, activating her stealth. Her body becomes one with the darkness, her presence vanishing from sight. Carefully, she moves toward the source of the voices. She peeks from behind a stalagmite and stiffens at what she sees. A pair of rugged-looking men dressed in tattered armor, their weapons strapped to their sides. One has a crude sword resting on his lap, while the other sharpens a dagger against a whetstone. Sorin''s eyes narrow. "Humans? Here?" she thinks, her mind racing. "And why am I in a cave?" A dozen questions swirl in her mind, but she pushes them aside. This is not the time to hesitate. She moves. Like a whisper of death, she glides forward. Before the men can react, her dagger slices through the first one''s throat. A wet gurgle escapes his lips as he collapses, eyes wide in shock. The second man barely has time to turn his head before Sorin''s blade plunges into his chest. He gasps, his body jerking as she twists the weapon, ensuring a swift kill. Silence falls over the cavern once more. Sorin exhales softly, pulling her blade free. She wipes the blood off on the dead man''s tunic, her mind still buzzing with questions. "What is this place?" she murmurs under her breath. "And why are humans here?" In Sorin''s mind, Alix would never push her to her death. Whatever this place was, there had to be a reason for her being here. That thought alone was enough to push her forward. She moves silently through the cavern, keeping to the shadows as she explores deeper. The more she sees, the clearer the picture becomes. More humans. Groups of them scattered throughout the cave¡ªsome drinking, some counting stolen goods, others sharpening weapons. Crude wooden furniture, makeshift tents, and storage crates fill the space. Sorin narrows her eyes. This looks like a bandit base. The realization makes her grip her dagger tighter. So, this was their hideout. If that was the case, then this was a perfect hunting ground. As she continues further, her eyes catch something unusual¡ªa wooden chest tucked into the corner of a side chamber. Her curiosity piqued, she approaches cautiously. "A chest?" she murmurs, kneeling in front of it. "Let''s see if there''s anything useful inside." With practiced ease, she lifts the lid. Inside, instead of gold or weapons, she finds a single item resting on the dark wood¡ªa ring. Sorin blinks. "...A ring?" She picks it up, turning it between her fingers. It''s simple, unadorned, and slightly worn, yet something about it feels different. "That''s it?" she mutters, tilting her head. "Just a ring?" It seems too underwhelming to be locked away in a chest. The moment the ring settles in place, a faint sensation washes over her. Her body feels lighter. More fluid. As if the very air around her is giving way to her movements with less resistance. She flexes her fingers, then shifts her stance experimentally. A subtle difference, but it''s there. Her eyes widen slightly. "I... feel faster?" She glances down at the ring, now resting snugly on her finger. What she doesn''t realize is that the ring grants +3 Agility. A small smirk tugs at her lips. "Interesting." Whatever this dungeon was, it was full of surprises. Sorin presses forward, her movements silent as a shadow gliding through the dimly lit tunnels. She keeps her senses sharp, scanning the area for more loot or useful weapons. But unlike before, no more chests appear. The winding corridors stretch endlessly, littered with crates and stolen goods, yet none of them seem interactable. A frown tugs at her lips. Strange. That chest from earlier had an item inside... but now, nothing? Chapter 43: The Boss Vs. Sorin Her gaze shifts to a fallen bandit, his sword still clutched in his stiffening hand. A practical thought crosses her mind¡ªwhy not take their weapons? She crouches beside the corpse and reaches for the sword''s hilt. It doesn''t budge. Sorin''s brows furrow. She tightens her grip and pulls harder, but the weapon remains stuck, as if welded to the ground. "What...?" she mutters under her breath. She tries another body¡ªthis one had a dagger strapped to his belt. But no matter how much she pulls, it refuses to come loose. It''s as if the weapons are mere props, part of the environment, and not something she can claim. A cold realization washes over her. ''So I can''t loot them? This place is weird?'' Her lips press into a thin line. She doesn''t understand the logic behind it, but standing around won''t give her answers. Pushing the thought aside, she continues deeper into the cave. The air grows heavier, tinged with the stench of sweat, alcohol, and something rotten. The flickering torches along the walls barely push back the darkness, casting eerie, dancing shadows. Then, she hears it¡ªboisterous laughter. She slows her steps, pressing herself against the rough stone wall as she approaches the source of the noise. Peeking around the corner, her sharp eyes take in the scene before her. A large cavern opens up before her, wider than any of the previous tunnels. At its center sits a figure on a makeshift throne of wood and bones. His muscles bulge beneath his ragged cloak, scars crisscrossing his exposed arms. A greatsword rests beside him, the metal gleaming dully in the low light. Surrounding him are more bandits¡ªsome sprawled across wooden benches, others drinking straight from barrels of stolen ale. A handful of women linger close, refilling cups and tending to the leader''s every whim. Sorin''s grip tightens on her dagger. Her golden eyes flicker, analyzing the scene. The way the others glance at him, the way no one dares speak too loudly in his presence¡ªthere''s no doubt. This man holds authority here. Sorin steadies her breathing, pressing deeper into the shadows, her eyes locked on the bandit leader. He is larger up close, his presence exuding a primal dominance that makes the other bandits unconsciously shrink before him. Just as she prepares to move, his head suddenly snaps in her direction. A slow, toothy grin spreads across his scarred face. "Ohh?" His deep, gravelly voice rumbles through the cavern. "Looks like we have a little mouse hiding in the dark." Sorin''s breath stills. Impossible. Her stealth is perfect. She hadn''t made a sound, and none of the other bandits had noticed her. How did he see me? Realizing she''s been exposed, she steps forward, letting the shadows peel away from her form. Her eyes remain locked onto the leader, scanning him for any hint of how he detected her. The bandit leader leans forward on his throne, his grin widening. "Although I can''t see your figure under that robe," he says, inhaling deeply, "I can smell that delicious fragrance your body is emitting." Sorin''s expression hardens, but she remains silent. The four bandits jerk in surprise. One of them, a scruffy-looking man with a chipped tooth, furrows his brows. "Boss, are you sure it''s a woman?" he asks skeptically. The leader chuckles, his tongue running over his teeth. "Oh, I''m sure." He lifts his hand lazily and gestures forward. "Go and capture her. I''ll have my fill first¡ªthen the rest of you can take turns." The bandits exchange eager grins before turning their predatory gazes toward Sorin. But Sorin doesn''t flinch. If anything, she tilts her head slightly, her lips curling into something cold. Something that sends a chill down their spines before they even take their first step. A quiet chuckle escapes Sorin''s lips, barely more than a breath. "This is good," she muses. "This human is too cocky." Her golden eyes flicker over the four underlings advancing toward her. She instantly assesses their strength¡ªTier 2 warriors (level 200+). She is a tier 3 assassin (level 300+). A hunter of the dark. The moment they step toward her, they have already lost. The first bandit lunges, his blade gleaming under the dim torchlight. His movements are fast¡ªfor a human¡ªbut predictable. Sorin doesn''t move until the last second, her body shifting just enough to let the attack pass through empty air. Then, she strikes. A single twist of her wrist. A flash of silver. The bandit gasps, his eyes widening as his throat opens in a crimson smile. He stumbles back, clutching at his neck, gurgling as blood spills between his fingers. The second one reacts immediately, swinging a heavy axe toward her side. Sorin sidesteps, her cloak billowing as the axe crashes into the stone floor with a deafening crack. Before the wielder can recover, she moves¡ªher dagger sinking into the gap between his shoulder and neck. His body stiffens, his breath hitching. Sorin yanks the blade free, spinning around him like a wraith, and slashes across his exposed side. The man crumples, a ragged cry escaping his lips before he collapses. The remaining two hesitate. "Shit! She''s too fast!" one of them hisses. "Surround her!" the other shouts. They rush her at once, one from the left, the other from the right. Sorin lets them come. The moment they enter her range, she vanishes. For a heartbeat, there is nothing. No sound. No presence. Then¡ª A blur. Sorin reappears behind the one on the right. He barely has time to widen his eyes before her dagger pierces the base of his skull. He drops instantly, his body limp before he even registers the pain. The last bandit stumbles back in terror. "Monster...!" he breathes, his hands trembling. He turns on his heel, ready to run¡ª A cold hand grabs the back of his head. Sorin yanks him down, her knee slamming into his face with a sickening crunch. Bone shatters. Blood sprays. He collapses at her feet, groaning weakly before the darkness claims him. Chapter 44: Silver Chest Silence falls over the cavern. Sorin exhales softly, flicking her wrist to shake the blood from her blade. The fight lasted mere seconds. The bodies around her lay still, their blood pooling against the cold stone floor. She lifts her gaze. The bandit leader remains seated on his throne, his grin unfazed, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He chuckles. "Now this," he murmurs, "is interesting." Sorin doesn''t hesitate. She vanishes. A sharp gust rustles the torches as she reappears behind the bandit leader, her dagger aimed for his neck in a killing strike. Clang! A massive arm swings back, his greatsword blocking her blade in a shower of sparks. "Fast," the leader muses, his grin widening as he twists his grip and shoves her back. "But predictable." Sorin flips mid-air, landing lightly on her feet. Her golden eyes narrow. She has fought countless foes, but his reaction speed was unnatural. Before she can reposition, he retaliates. "Titan Fang!" His greatsword blurs, its weight multiplying as it descends toward her like a falling mountain. Sorin moves. Shadow Step. She flickers out of existence, appearing just beyond his reach. The stone where she once stood explodes, jagged cracks splitting the cavern floor. ''I need to be careful not to get hit.'' She lunges again, her daggers glowing with Night Piercer, a skill that ignores armor and strikes directly at vital points. The leader reacts instantly. "Steel Fortress." A faint shimmer envelops his body, and Sorin''s blades scrape uselessly against his skin as if striking solid iron. He laughs. "An assassin with weak strikes? Disappointing." His counter is brutal. He swings the flat of his blade toward her midsection, aiming to crush her ribs. Sorin bends backward, the wind of the strike rushing past her face. She kicks off the ground, flipping over the blade''s path. In mid-air, she vanishes again. She reappears at his side, her leg whipping out in a precise arc. "Phantom Fang." Her heel slams into his temple, the force amplified by her skill. The impact reverberates through the cavern, sending a shockwave outward. The bandit leader stumbles, his grin faltering for the first time. Sorin lands, adjusting her stance. "Not bad for a brute." The leader straightens, rolling his neck. The skin where she struck him is bruised, but he looks more amused than angry. "Not bad for a rat." They stare at each other for a heartbeat. Then they move. The cavern erupts into chaos. Sorin disappears into the shadows, striking from unpredictable angles. The leader swings with monstrous strength, tearing through stone and air alike. Every clash sends shockwaves rippling through the cavern, embers dancing in the torchlight. They are evenly matched. But Sorin knows¡ªshe only needs one perfect strike. The fight stretches on for a full minute, each exchange a deadly blur of motion. Sorin darts through the shadows, striking from every angle. Yet, each time, the bandit leader either blocks, dodges, or counters with terrifying precision. Damn... this human has good reflexes. She hides now, her breathing slow, her presence erased by stealth. Her golden eyes flicker from the darkness, observing. The bandit leader stands in the open, greatsword resting on his shoulder, his grin still there¡ªbut now there''s something sharper behind it. "Running already?" he taunts, his voice echoing through the cavern. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Come on... you can''t hide from me forever." Sorin grits her teeth. It''s not just his reaction speed. He has an unnatural sense¡ªalmost like an animal tracking its prey. If this keeps up, he''ll wear her down. She needs to end this. Silently, she grips her dagger, activating her Tier 3 skill¡ª "Abyss Fang." A suffocating stillness fills the air. The shadows around her deepen, stretching unnaturally, twisting toward her as if drawn to something primal. Her blade drinks in the darkness, turning void-black, its edge humming with lethal intent. Her presence vanishes completely. The bandit leader''s eyes widen slightly. His instincts scream at him. Danger. He moves¡ªtoo late. Sorin reappears behind him, her blade already plunging toward his exposed back. He spins, swinging his greatsword wildly¡ª But Abyss Fang ignores defense. Her dagger pierces his side, sinking deep. A black ripple spreads from the wound, devouring his protection, bypassing his Steel Fortress. "Gah¡ª!" The leader staggers, his body locking up. His muscles tremble, his limbs sluggish. Abyss Fang doesn''t just pierce the body. It devours movement. Sorin doesn''t hesitate. She pivots, twisting the blade, and in the same motion¡ªslashes upward. A dark arc of energy erupts from the strike. The bandit leader''s body jerks violently. Blood sprays. His greatsword slips from his fingers, crashing to the ground. His legs give out, and he drops to his knees. His breath comes ragged now. He clutches his wound, his grin gone, replaced by something between shock and... laughter? "Heh... heh... Not bad," he rasps. "I actually lost..." Sorin watches him, dagger still in hand. Then¡ªshe moves. A final blur. Her dagger flashes. And the bandit leader''s body slumps to the ground, unmoving. Silence. Sorin exhales, rolling her shoulders as the shadows retreat from her form. The skill fades, the eerie pressure lifting from the cavern. She flicks the blood from her dagger, stepping over the corpse. Just as she turns to leave, a voice echoes inside her head. "Congratulations on clearing the dungeon. Please proceed to the reward. You will be teleported out shortly after claiming it." Sorin freezes. Her eyes dart around the cavern, her body tense. ''What the¡ª?'' She tightens her grip on her dagger, scanning the shadows. No movement. No presence. Yet, the voice was clear as day, reverberating inside her skull. "The voice in my head just said something about a reward," she mutters, her brows furrowing. Her instincts scream at her¡ªshe doesn''t like unseen forces dictating her actions. But there''s no immediate threat. Her gaze sweeps across the cavern. That''s when she sees it. At the center of the room, a silver-colored chest shimmers faintly, as if appearing from nowhere. Chapter 45: Openg Of The Dungeon (part 1) Her eyes narrow. That chest wasn''t there before. Sorin approaches cautiously, her steps silent, her body poised to react. When she gets close, she stops, staring down at the ornate engravings on its surface. She exhales through her nose. "...This better not be a trap." Sorin crouches beside the chest, running a hand over the cool metal. No visible locks. No obvious traps. But that doesn''t mean it''s safe. She presses her lips into a thin line, then¡ªswiftly¡ªlifts the lid. A soft glow illuminates her face. Inside, nestled on a black velvet cloth, are two daggers. They are unlike any she has seen before. Midnight black with silver etchings that pulse faintly, as if alive. The air around them hums with power. Sorin hesitates only a moment before reaching in. The moment her fingers wrap around the hilts¡ª A rush of information slams into her mind. Her vision blurs. Her breath catches. It''s not pain, but the sheer force of it leaves her momentarily stunned. Words. Symbols. A skill. A Tier 3 skill. Her eyes widen as the knowledge settles, as natural as if she had known it all her life. Slowly, she exhales. "This dagger... has a Tier 3 skill," she whispers. Her voice is barely audible, but in the vast silence of the cavern, it feels deafening. She stares at the weapons in her hands, her fingers tightening around them. She only has one Tier 3 skill¡ªAbyss Fang. And even that... Her heart beats faster. She almost died getting it. The memory flickers¡ªbreaking into that nobleman''s estate, slipping past powerful guards, barely making it out alive. She almost got killed for Abyss Fang. Yet now¡ª She swallows hard. Sorin takes a shaky breath, trying to steady the thoughts racing through her mind. It''s not just the Tier 3 skill. The daggers themselves¡ªthey''re high quality. She lifts one, studying its edge. The craftsmanship is leagues beyond anything she has wielded before. The weight, the balance¡ªit feels like an extension of her own hand. Her grip tightens. "If I had these earlier," she mutters, voice tinged with frustration, "I could''ve stabbed that bastard without a problem." She exhales sharply, shaking off the thought. No use dwelling on what-ifs. Just as she''s about to test the blade¡ª A soft hum fills the air. Light. Blinding white light engulfs her, swallowing everything. Sorin tenses, instinctively raising her daggers, but the sensation is weightless¡ªlike being pulled through space itself. Then¡ª A blink. The air shifts. She finds herself standing in a familiar place. The stone floor beneath her feet. The faint scent of parchment, steel, and something distinctly regal. She''s back. Her eyes snap up, and sure enough¡ªthere he is. Alix stands before her, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Sorin exhales sharply, still gripping the daggers. Her mind reels from the sudden shift, but she forces the confusion down. Sorin takes a step forward, her grip on the daggers loosening slightly. Her eyes flick around, confirming that she is indeed back. After a brief pause, she exhales. "I''m back, Your Majesty." Alix nods, as if her return was expected. "You must have a lot of questions." His voice is steady, measured. "I''ll explain it to you." Sorin listens in silence as he begins. "That place you were in¡ªit''s called a dungeon." She furrows her brows slightly, still gripping her weapons. "A dungeon?" she repeats. Alix nods. "Yes. And the human bandits inside? They weren''t real people." Sorin''s expression shifts, a flicker of surprise crossing her usually composed features. "That''s impossible." Alix smirks slightly. "I know it feels real. The fights, the blood, the pain¡ªit''s all designed to be that way. But the moment you left, everything inside reset. The bandits will come back, the chests will close, and someone else will have the chance to go through it all over again." Sorin''s grip on her new daggers tightens. "A place where enemies revive..." Alix chuckles. "It''s a perfect hunting ground." Sorin gives him a sharp look but says nothing. "Listen," Alix continues, his tone turning serious. "We''re going to open this dungeon to the public. It will attract those monsters to settle in the city." Sorin tilts her head. "That''s right, the monster are too proud to live in the same place as other monsters..." "And because only the citizens can use the dungeon," Alix explains. "They need to become a citizen of Misorn city, they''ll have access to a place where they can get items. Who wouldn''t want that?" His smirk widens. "Who wouldn''t want the chance to kill humans while also getting stronger and collecting weapons and items?" She lowers her head slightly. "As you wish, Your Majesty." A thought crosses her mind, and she lifts her gaze again. "Can I ask... are all the weapons and items I obtained real?" Alix nods. "They''re real. Everything you bring out of the dungeon exists in the real world. But whether you get something good or not depends entirely on luck." He gives her a pointed look. "And you? You were lucky. That dagger you got is high quality, and the ring boosts your agility." Sorin frowns slightly. "Agility?" "It makes you faster," Alix simplifies. Sorin''s expression shifts as realization dawns. "After I put this ring on, I felt a little faster. Even if it was just a small change, I noticed it." Alix nods. "That''s agility for you. With enough of it, even an average fighter can become fast enough to dodge attacks that should be impossible to avoid." Sorin looks down at her hand, flexing her fingers as if testing the change again. Sorin''s expression turns serious. She lifts her gaze, her eyes locking onto his. "Your Majesty, there''s one problem." "Go on." "The leader of the bandits," Sorin says, gripping her new daggers. "He''s strong¡ªtoo strong. I don''t think the monsters in this forest have the capability to kill him." Alix doesn''t seem surprised. If anything, he looks amused. "Don''t worry," he says easily. "Before anyone enters, the receptionist will give them an item that lets them teleport out of the dungeon, even if they don''t defeat the leader." Chapter 46: Reviving A Subordinate Sorin said. "You didn''t give me one." Alix chuckles. "Because I knew you could kill him." She exhales, shaking her head. "You really put a lot of faith in me." "Faith?" Alix tilts his head. "No. I just know what you''re capable of." Sorin studies him for a long moment before looking down at her weapons again. The weight of them, the hum of power beneath her fingertips¡ªshe had survived, yes, but it wasn''t easy. And yet, despite the odds, she had won. She huffs a quiet laugh. "I suppose I can''t argue with that." Alix gives her one last smirk before turning away. "I''ll leave the rest to you." Sorin watches as he exits, his footsteps fading into the corridor. She exhales, rolling her shoulders. The real work begins now. Over the next few days, Tolga¡ªas she is known to the public¡ªhandles the dungeon''s publicity. At first, skepticism runs rampant among the monsters of Misorn City. A thing called dungeon where you can obtain weapons and items? It sounds absurd, a fairytale. But curiosity wins out. One by one, monsters enter the dungeon. Some emerge victorious, clutching newfound treasures with disbelief and exhilaration. Others aren''t so lucky¡ªsome lose, some even die. But the allure of strength, the chance to wield power beyond their limits, proves irresistible. By the end of the week, nearly all five thousand monsters in Misorn have used the dungeon at least once. The city''s atmosphere shifts. Monsters who once had no direction now have purpose. Those who were weak strive to become stronger. Those who were already strong seek to push their limits further. But it doesn''t stop there. As the monsters of Misorn go out to sell their weapons, armor, and loot in neighboring towns, they bring stories with them. The dungeon, the endless battles, the treasures waiting inside. At first, no one believes them. A dungeon where enemies resurrect? Where you can collect real items? It sounds like a lie. Yet, the proof is undeniable. A goblin merchant slams a gleaming sword onto a wooden counter in a bustling market. "This ain''t just any blade," he boasts, grinning sharp-toothed. "Got it from Misorn''s Dungeon. Slaughtered a dozen bandits for it. Still sharp as hell." A towering ogre, arms crossed, scoffs. "You expect me to believe that?" "Believe what you want," the goblin snorts, jingling a pouch heavy with gold. "But only Misorn citizens can enter. You? You ain''t one of us. So, keep dreaming." Similar conversations spread like wildfire. Skeptical at first, monsters from various tribes start traveling to Misorn, curious to see the truth for themselves. Some disguise their intentions, lingering on the city''s outskirts, watching. Others are more direct, demanding entry. But they are turned away. Only citizens can enter the dungeon. Outsiders? They are forbidden. That exclusivity only fuels their desire. Slowly but surely, the wandering tribes¡ªthose without a true home, begin to settle in Misorn. They swear loyalty, integrating into the city, bound by one shared goal. To grow stronger. Misorn City is no longer a ghost city. It is becoming something far greater. A haven. A kingdom of monsters. ---- Alix stands in his private chamber, his gaze fixed on the large chest overflowing with gold coins. The candlelight flickers, casting a warm glow over the shimmering treasure. Draya, standing beside him with her hands clasped in front of her, bows slightly. "Your Majesty, this is all the gold coins they have collected. It has been stored in Misorn City''s treasury until now." Alix hums in acknowledgment, his sharp eyes scanning the wealth before him. "Thank you, Draya. You can leave me for now." Draya bows once more before turning to leave, her steps silent as she exits the chamber. Once alone, Alix moves forward, placing his hand on the chest. A moment later, the entire chest vanishes, sucked into his palm as if absorbed into thin air. A soft chime echoes in his mind as his status updates. His gaze shifts inward, checking his inventory. [Gold Coins: 1,328,320] Alix smirks. "Not bad," he mutters. But his expression darkens slightly as he leans back, arms crossed. "Still... I''m sure that bastard¡ªthe former city lord¡ªtook most of it when he fled." Alix taps his fingers against the armrest of his chair, his eyes fixed on the glowing numbers in his status. One million, three hundred twenty-eight thousand gold coins. A significant sum, but when it comes to resurrecting his subordinates... it''s barely enough. He exhales through his nose, his fingers tightening slightly. "With this much, which subordinate should I resurrect?" The thought of reviving the soldiers crosses his mind. He could use the gold to bring back hundreds of soldiers, bolstering Misorn City''s defenses. But then¡ª He shakes his head. "No, what I need right now isn''t numbers... it''s power." His weakest personal subordinate¡ªLevel 500¡ªalready costs a million gold to resurrect. That alone tells him how absurd the cost of reviving his true elites must be. And right now, he only has Level 500 royal guard at his disposal. That wouldn''t do. His personal subordinates, are in another league. A single one of them could take on two royal guards of the same level. Alix exhales and mentally pulls up the list of his fallen subordinates. Rows upon rows of names appear before him, each accompanied by a darkened portrait, a level, and the amount of gold required for resurrection. His gaze sweeps over the names, each one carrying the weight of a warrior lost in battle. These aren''t just monsters¡ªthese are his monsters, the subordinates who once stood by his side, carving a path of destruction in his name. The first name catches his eye. [Varkas the Crimson Fang ¨C Level 528] Resurrection Cost: 1,020,000 Gold Alix''s lips press together. Karnak¡ªa massive lycanthrope with crimson fur and a towering physique. His strength alone could rival three royal guards, his razor-sharp claws able to slice through steel with ease. But his true strength lies in his Blood Frenzy, a skill that allows him to grow stronger the more he bleeds. Chapter 47: Varkas Resurrection Once, he tore through an entire battalion of soldiers. But he wasn''t just a brute¡ªVarkas was cunning. A warrior who knew when to attack and when to retreat. Alix scrolls further. [Vaelith the Phantom Stalker ¨C Level 532] Resurrection Cost: 1,050,000 Gold A wraith-like assassin, Vaelith was a terror on the battlefield. His Shadowmeld ability allowed him to phase between the physical and ethereal realm, making him nearly impossible to track. He was the perfect killer¡ªsilent, precise, merciless. If Varkas was a beast of raw power, Vaelith was the dagger in the dark. [Gorrak the Ironhide ¨C Level 538] Resurrection Cost: 1,120,000 Gold A towering minotaur clad in enchanted black iron. Gorrak was a living fortress, his Draconic Armor skill making him nearly impervious to physical attacks. With a massive warhammer that could shatter mountains, he was the definition of an unstoppable force. In the last battle he fought, he held off a squadron of mages alone, crushing them before he finally fell. [Ssytha the Venom Queen ¨C Level 540] Resurrection Cost: 1,200,000 Gold A naga sorceress who commanded poison and illusions. Ssytha was a nightmare to fight¡ªher Serpent''s Mirage allowed her to create clones of herself, while her venom could melt through armor in seconds. Alix exhales slowly, leaning back. Even though their levels and prices differ, their actual strength isn''t far apart. Varkas is raw destruction, Vaelith is death in silence, Gorrak is an indomitable shield, and Ssytha is a nightmare given form. Any one of them would be a massive advantage. But Alix knows his priorities. "If I pick Varkas," he muses, "I can at least resurrect a squad of soldiers with the remaining gold." He taps his fingers against the armrest, considering the choice one last time. Karnak is strong, aggressive, and¡ªmost importantly¡ªreliable. Unlike the others, he thrives in both solo battles and large-scale fights. With him back, Alix can enforce his rule more effectively, ensuring Misorn''s continued growth. "Alright then," Alix finally decides, his voice cutting through the silence. "Let''s do that." Without hesitation, he stands and activates his teleportation. Dark energy swirls around him, the air warping and twisting before¡ª Vwoom. In an instant, he vanishes from his chamber. Alix reappears in the Resurrection Room, a vast underground hall hidden beneath the palace. The atmosphere is heavy, thick with an ancient power that lingers in the air. At the room''s center stands a massive Resurrection Altar, a black stone slab engraved with intricate, glowing runes pulsing with deep crimson light. The moment he steps forward, the runes react, brightening as if recognizing his presence. On either side of the altar, statues of long-forgotten deities loom, their stone gazes watching as if judging his decision. The chamber itself is silent, save for the faint hum of magic resonating from the altar. Alix approaches, placing a hand on the cold surface. The runes flare brighter, acknowledging his command. "[Select: Varkas the Crimson Fang.]" The system responds immediately. [Resurrection Confirmed.] [Deducting 1,020,000 Gold...] A golden glow envelops Alix as the massive sum is drained from his inventory. The chamber hums with raw energy, the very air crackling with power. The altar''s runes pulse violently, casting eerie reflections across the stone walls. A deep tremor shakes the ground beneath him. Then, the silence shatters. A surge of dark energy erupts from the altar, swirling into a vortex of crimson and black, twisting like a violent storm. The glow intensifies, condensing into a single point before¡ª BOOM! A shockwave bursts outward, making Alix''s cloak billow as the power settles. The figure now standing on the altar is massive¡ªeasily towering over eight feet tall. Varkas the Crimson Fang has returned. Thick, crimson fur covers his hulking frame, and his piercing eyes snap open. His claws flex, sharp as razors, as he takes his first breath in this world once more. His ears twitch, listening to the lingering hum of magic in the chamber. Then, his gaze falls upon Alix. Without hesitation, Varkas lowers himself onto one knee, his massive form bowing in absolute reverence. His deep voice rumbles through the chamber, filled with raw gratitude and unwavering loyalty. "Thank you, Your Majesty, for bringing me back." Alix, standing before him, crosses his arms and studies Varkas. ''Damn... this guy is huge.'' He had known Varkas was large in the game, but seeing him in person, the sheer size and presence of the lycanthrope is almost overwhelming. "Rise," Alix commands, his voice steady. "It''s good to see you again, Varkas." Varkas lifts his head, his golden eyes gleaming with something close to satisfaction. He stands to his full height, his immense frame towering over Alix. Despite his size, his movements are smooth¡ªcontrolled. There is no wasted motion, no unnecessary aggression. This is a warrior in his prime, fully aware of his own power. Varkas rolls his shoulders, then clenches a fist. His muscles flex beneath his crimson fur, raw strength coursing through him. "It''s the same for me, Your Majesty," he says, his deep voice filled with conviction. "It''s been too long." Alix nods. "For now, just take some time to familiarize yourself with the city." He pauses, then adds, "Though I should warn you¡ªthe capital is empty." Varkas eyes narrow slightly. "Empty?" "Yes, but it won''t be for long," Alix assures him. "I''ll gather enough gold to resurrect everyone." His voice is firm, unwavering. "It''s just a matter of time." Varkas is silent for a moment, then steps forward. He places a clawed hand over his chest and bows his head slightly. "Then I will sacrifice myself to help His Majesty achieve it," he declares. Alix exhales sharply, shaking his head. "I don''t think that''s plausible." He narrows his eyes. "This is already your tenth death, right?" Varkas nods without hesitation. "Yes." "You already know the rule," Alix continues, his voice firm. "You all can only be resurrected ten times. After the tenth death, it''s over. No second chances, no more resurrections." He crosses his arms. "So from now on, I''m ordering you¡ªbe careful with your life." Chapter 48: Twenty Soldiers Varkas''s expression hardens, the weight of Alix''s words settling over him. He bows his head slightly. "Understood, Your Majesty. I will not waste this life." Alix gives him a firm nod. "Good. Now, go. Settle into your territory and get used to the city again." Varkas straightens to his full height and places a fist over his chest. "As you command." With that, he turns and strides toward the exit, his massive frame moving with quiet confidence. Once Varkas is gone, Alix turns his attention back to the Resurrection Altar. He still has 300,000 gold left. It''s not much compared to what he just spent, but it''s enough to bring back a solid force. He raises a hand over the altar. The system interface flickers to life. "[Select: One Squad of Soldiers.]" [Resurrection Confirmed.] [Deducting 300,000 Gold...] The altar glows again, though this time, the surge of energy is less intense than before. The crimson runes pulse steadily, the chamber vibrating with restrained power. Then¡ª Vwoom. A cluster of figures materializes before him. At the forefront stands a tall, armored warrior¡ªhis presence commanding. His plate armor gleams under the dim glow of the chamber, a deep scar running across his left cheek. His level displays above him: [Rygar ¨C Level 415] Behind him, twenty soldiers stand at attention, their levels ranging from 200 to 300. Some are in heavy armor, others in lighter gear suited for mobility. Their weapons are diverse¡ªblades, spears, bows¡ªbut they all share the same disciplined stance. Rygar steps forward, dropping to one knee. His voice is steady, unwavering. "Your Majesty. We are honored to return to your service." Alix crosses his arms, scanning the soldiers. He nods in approval. "Stand." The squad rises in unison, their movements sharp. Alix looks over the group, then gestures for them to gather closer. "You''ll be stationed somewhere else." Rygar and his soldiers step in, forming a disciplined formation around him. Alix meets Rygar''s gaze. "I''m sending you to Misorn City. It''s now under our kingdom''s rule, and I need you there to reinforce security." Rygar nods. "Understood, Your Majesty. How do we get there?" Alix quickly explains the route, detailing the paths and key landmarks. "You''ll need to travel by foot. Once you arrive, report to Sorin¡ªshe''s in charge there. She''ll decide where to station you." Rygar clenches his fist over his chest in salute. "We will not fail you." Alix smirks slightly. "Good. Now go." With that, he activates his teleportation. The world distorts around him. Sorin is hunched over her desk, surrounded by stacks of parchment and ledgers. Her dark eyes are focused as she scribbles down reports, occasionally pushing stray strands of hair behind her ear. The workload has doubled ever since the dungeon became operational, and she barely has time to breathe. Then¡ª Vwoom. Alix suddenly materializes in the room. Sorin jumps, her dagger half-drawn before she recognizes him. She exhales sharply, rubbing her temple. "Your Majesty¡ª" she sighs, shaking her head. "Could you not do that?" Alix chuckles, arms crossed. "Didn''t know an assassin could get frightened." She glares at him but doesn''t have the energy to argue. "I''m not frightened," she mutters. "I''m just tired and stressed." Alix glances at the cluttered desk. "I thought you hired monsters to help you with this." "I did," Sorin sighs, rolling her shoulders. "But there are thousands of monsters requesting citizenship. It''s insane. Ever since the dungeon opened, Misorn has exploded with new residents." Alix raises a brow. "How many?" "In just a few days?" Sorin leans back, rubbing her temples. "Twelve thousand. And it''s not slowing down." Alix thought. ''Twelve thousand already? That explains the workload.'' But more than that, it reminds him of the insane requirement to reach level 500¡ªhe needs five hundred thousand citizens. The jump from ten thousand to that number still feels ridiculous. At this rate... it''s possible, but it''ll take time. Shaking the thought away, he focuses back on Sorin. "That''s actually why I''m here. There will be a squad of soldiers, including a Tier 4 (level 400) captain. They''ll be arriving soon. You can decide where to station them." Sorin immediately perks up at that. "That''s perfect." She sits up straighter, looking far more alert. "With the population growing this fast, we need more guards." Alix nods. "Good. Then I''ll leave them to you." Sorin exhales, relief evident in her posture. "I''ll make sure they''re put to good use." Alix watches her for a moment before saying. "It''s good to see that you''re not hiding your identity anymore." Sorin blinks, then chuckles softly. "It''s all thanks to you, your majesty. There''s no point in hiding my face anymore¡ªnot when I''m in the safest place in the world." Alix tilts his head slightly. "Hmm... I wouldn''t claim my kingdom is the safest place in the world just yet." He keeps his expression neutral, but inwardly, he knows the truth¡ªhe still doesn''t know much about this world. He''s only begun to scratch the surface of its dangers. "But," he continues, his voice steady, "I will promise you this¡ªmy kingdom will not be destroyed by anyone." Sorin meets his gaze, something unreadable flickering in her dark eyes. There''s a quiet confidence in his words, an unshakable determination that makes her believe it. Alix steps back, preparing to teleport. But just before he does, he smirks again and says, "And it''s good that you''re not hiding your beautiful face anymore." Sorin''s breath catches. A faint blush creeps up her cheeks, her usual composure faltering. She opens her mouth, but no words come out. It''s the first time she''s ever felt this¡ªthis strange, unfamiliar warmth in her chest. Vwoom. Before she can even process it, Alix is gone. Sorin stands there for a long moment, staring at the empty space where he once was. She touches her cheek absentmindedly. "...What the hell was that?" she mutters to herself, completely bewildered. ---- Not far from Misorn City, a group of human adventurers crouches behind a rocky outcrop, eyes locked onto the distant city. Their captain, a rugged man with a weathered face and a trimmed beard, raises a spyglass to his eye. The enchanted lens hums faintly as he peers through it. Chapter 49: Two Types Of Adventurers "Although I can''t see much, I can tell there are a lot of monsters outside the city... and they''re lining up." His brow furrows. "It''s hard to explain, but they''re standing there obediently¡ªno fighting, no chaos. Just... waiting." One of his men, a younger adventurer with a bow slung across his back, leans in. "Captain, what about inside the city? It''s probably been reduced to rubble by now, right?" The captain lowers the spyglass and shakes his head. "Can''t tell. The walls block my view." He hands the spyglass to another member. "See if you can spot anything else." The man takes it and scans the city. His eyes widen slightly. "There are monsters on top of the walls," he says, voice tinged with disbelief. "They look like they''re... patrolling." Another adventurer scoffs. "That''s ridiculous. Since when do monsters patrol like trained soldiers?" The captain exhales, running a hand through his short, graying hair. "With this information, the quest is a success. We might even get promoted to a Silver-ranked adventurer group." He smirks. "After all, the kingdom put out this quest specifically. This is exactly the kind of intel they wanted." One of the younger adventurers, a wiry man with twin daggers strapped to his waist, whistles. "Silver rank, huh? That''d mean better quests, better pay, and fewer of those garbage escort missions." A stocky warrior with a greatsword slung over his back crosses his arms. "It''d also mean harder jobs. But this? This is valuable. If monsters are organizing like this... that''s not normal. The kingdom''s going to want to know what''s happening here." The captain nods. "Exactly. That''s why we don''t take any unnecessary risks. We head back and report." He glances around at his team. "And no one does anything stupid, understood?" "Yeah, yeah," the rogue mutters, sheathing his daggers. "Not like I want to fight an army of monsters." The youngest member, a bright-eyed mage, looks up from his notebook. "Captain, I''ve been thinking... There are two types of adventurers, right? Some, like us, take quests as a group and rank up together. But then there are solo adventurers¡ªthe ones who don''t belong to a party and take on quests alone." The captain raises a brow. "Yeah, what about it?" The mage hesitates, then says, "It''s just that... Krove, a Bronze-ranked adventurer, took this quest before us. He never came back. Just like the others who took it first." His grip tightens on his notebook. "Doesn''t that seem off to you?" The group falls silent for a moment. The rogue clicks his tongue. "Krove, huh? I remember that guy. Thought he was hot shit just because he cleared a goblin den solo." He shakes his head. "Still, he wasn''t weak. If he disappeared too..." "Maybe he got careless," the warrior grunts. "A lone Bronze-rank sneaking around near a monster-infested city? He was either reckless or unlucky." The captain sighs. "Stop being so worrisome. We''re far away from the city. I even bought this spyglass for a fortune just so we wouldn''t have to get any closer." He taps the expensive item in his hand. "This lets us do our job without ending up like Krove or the others." The mage frowns. "Still... something doesn''t add up." He looks back at the city, then at the monsters outside. "If this was just a regular monster outbreak, we should''ve seen signs of destruction. Smoke. Fires. Maybe even bodies. But everything looks... controlled." The rogue crosses his arms. "And that''s weird because...?" "Because monsters don''t do that," the mage says flatly. "They rampage. They destroy. They don''t line up in neat little rows like soldiers waiting for orders." The captain exhales sharply. "I know it''s weird. But weird or not, our job is just to gather intel and report back. We''re not here to solve this mystery ourselves." He gestures to his team. "We''ve got what we came for. Now, pack up. We''re leaving." The group nods and begins gathering their gear. The tension lingers, but they push it aside¡ªafter all, they''re professionals. Then¡ª A faint whisper. A flicker of movement. The mage''s breath catches. His fingers tighten around his staff. A cold, unnatural presence presses against his skin, sending a violent shiver down his spine. Something is wrong. "Wait¡ª" Before the words can fully escape his lips, the world shifts. The others don''t even react. They don''t even know. Because they''re already dead. Dark, wraith-like figures rise from the very shadows around them¡ªsilent, formless beings of pure darkness. No sound. No warning. No chance. One by one, the adventurers drop. Eyes wide. Mouths slightly open as if in mid-conversation. Their bodies crumple, lifeless, before they even realize they''ve been killed. No struggle. No screams. Just silence. The mage, the only one who feels it¡ªwho knows¡ªtries to raise a barrier. But before he can even gather the mana, cold fingers brush against his throat. His vision blurs. Then¡ª Darkness. The shadowy figures stand for a brief moment over the lifeless bodies. They do not speak. They do not linger. And just as suddenly as they appeared¡ª They vanish. ----- In the grand throne room of Raltheon''s royal palace, King Edric sits on his throne, his fingers drumming lightly against the armrest. The room is silent, save for the occasional crackle of the torches lining the stone walls. Before him stands Marshal Novius, the kingdom''s top military strategist and commander of the royal army. The king exhales, his voice heavy with concern. "Marshal Novius... has the Adventurers'' Guild had any success with the quest?" Novius lowers his head slightly. "Unfortunately, Your Majesty, they have not." His tone is measured but firm. "Every bronze rank adventurers that has accepted the request has failed to return. At this point, we may need to raise the quest to Silver rank." King Edric sighs, leaning back against his throne. His expression darkens. "So even the Bronze-ranked adventurers couldn''t handle it... And we still don''t know what happened to them." Novius straightens his posture. "Rest assured, Your Majesty. If the situation escalates, the kingdom''s army is always ready." Chapter 50: Tier 4 Skills Inside his private training area, Alix stands before a reinforced training dummy, gripping his sword tightly. The air around him hums with mana as he focuses, adjusting his stance. He takes a deep breath. Tier 4 skills are on a completely different level... His muscles tense as he prepares to strike. "[Phantom Blade]!" he calls out. His sword flickers out of existence for a brief moment before reappearing mid-swing, slashing cleanly through the air. The attack is nearly invisible, its speed overwhelming. The dummy remains intact for a second¡ªthen, with a faint shimmer, deep gashes appear along its frame. Alix exhales. Fast, but still not fluid enough. He shifts his grip and moves into his next technique. "[Rift Step]!" His figure vanishes in a blur, reappearing behind the dummy in an instant. Alix steadies himself, exhaling slowly. These skills are strong, but using them one at a time isn''t enough. He looks at the dummy, now riddled with cuts, but still standing. His grip tightens around his sword. "Alright," he mutters to himself. "Let''s start the real training." He walks over to a control panel embedded in the stone wall and adjusts the settings. With a few flicks of his fingers, he changes the dummy''s mode¡ªits passive state vanishes, and instead, a new set of parameters appears before him. [Combat Mode Activated] [Difficulty: Advanced] [Enemy Level: 500] [Adaptive Combat AI Enabled] As soon as he confirms the settings, the dummy transforms. Its once-wooden form shifts, hardening into a sleek, metallic humanoid with glowing red eyes. The air around it shudders as it takes its first step forward, an aura of power radiating from its frame. Alix grins. ''Now we''re talking.'' The dummy moves first. With inhuman speed, it lunges, a shimmering blade forming from its right arm. Alix barely dodges in time, twisting his body as the weapon slashes past his shoulder. It''s fast! He retaliates instantly. "[Blazing Arc]!" His sword ignites in flames as he swings upward. The fire streaks through the air, but the dummy blocks it effortlessly with a sudden energy shield. It adapted already? Alix doesn''t hesitate¡ªhe shifts tactics. "[Storm Surge]!" A burst of wind explodes from beneath him, launching him into the air. The dummy follows, leaping after him. Alix''s eyes sharpen. "[Glacial Spikes]!" The temperature plummets as massive ice spikes materialize in midair, aiming for the dummy. It twists to dodge, but one of the spikes grazes its arm, slowing its movement. "Got you." Alix extends his hand. "[Thunder Chain]!" Lightning crackles as a web of electricity surges toward the dummy, locking onto the metallic frame. The impact sends shockwaves through the training area, and for a moment, the dummy freezes in place. But only for a moment. With a mechanical hum, its red eyes flare, and its body shifts again. Energy pulses from within, shattering the paralyzing effect. Then, in a flash, it closes the distance. Alix barely has time to raise his sword before the dummy''s fist crashes into his guard, sending him skidding across the ground. He grits his teeth, rolling back onto his feet. This is what I wanted¡ªa real challenge. His magic flares once more. "Alright then. Let''s see how you handle everything I''ve got." Alix plants his feet firmly, rolling his shoulders. His mana surges as he channels his strongest abilities. If he''s going to push himself, he needs to go all out. "Eleven Tier 4 buffs..." He exhales sharply, feeling the immense energy coursing through his veins. "Let''s see what happens when I stack them all." One by one, he activates them. "[Titan''s Strength]!" His muscles surge with raw power, his body reinforced beyond normal human limits. "[Celestial Agility]!" His movements become sharper, his reaction speed doubling instantly. "[Adamantine Skin]!" A faint metallic sheen coats his body, making his defenses nearly impenetrable. "[Arcane Surge]!" His mana pool expands, his spells and skills gaining a massive boost in potency. "[Phantom Reflex]!" His instincts heighten, allowing him to react to attacks almost before they happen. "[Eagle''s Eye]!" His vision sharpens, tracking every movement of the enemy with crystal clarity. "[Shadow Step]!" His body becomes lighter, allowing him to move with unparalleled fluidity. "[Warrior''s Resolve]!" His stamina replenishes at an accelerated rate, ensuring he doesn''t tire quickly. "[Stormborn Affinity]!" Lightning crackles around his form, empowering his attacks with electric speed and force. "[Infernal Wrath]!" A blazing aura engulfs his body, increasing the destructive power of his fire-based abilities. "[Glacial Endurance]!" The heat-resistant flames are countered by an inner cold, stabilizing his temperature and granting frost resistance. A brilliant glow radiates from Alix as the effects of the buffs intertwine. His breathing steadies, his body vibrating with untamed potential. The dummy, as if sensing the drastic increase in power, shifts into a more aggressive stance. Its adaptive AI recalibrates, its red eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. Alix smirks. "Let''s see if you can keep up now." The dummy moves, but this time, Alix sees everything. Time seems to slow as it lunges at him. He doesn''t dodge. Instead, he counters. Boom! The entire training area trembles as he blocks the strike with a single hand. The shockwave ripples through the air, but Alix remains unmoved. The dummy readjusts, aiming a precise stab toward his chest. Alix twists his body, sidesteps, and counters with a devastating punch enhanced by Titan''s Strength. Crack! The impact sends the dummy flying backward, slamming into the far wall. Alix vanishes. He reappears mid-air above the dummy, sword raised high. "[Thunderfang Slash]!" His blade arcs downward, lightning streaking behind it. The dummy reacts instantly, raising a barrier, but Alix is already moving again. Boom! --- several minutes later... Alix exhales sharply, standing over the shattered remains of the training dummy. Smoke rises from its ruined frame, sparks flickering along its broken limbs. His entire body aches, his breathing ragged. "Wow..." he mutters between breaths. "Even with all the Tier 4 skills I used... I still took a lot of time to defeat this Level 500 dummy." His arms feel heavy, his muscles burning from exertion. He rolls his shoulders, satisfied despite the exhaustion. This was exactly what he needed¡ªa true test of his limits. Chapter 51: Eldoria City He takes a moment to steady himself before walking toward the exit. His private washroom is just a short distance away, and right now, a cold shower sounds perfect. Inside the washroom, steam rises as Alix stands under the cascading water, letting it wash away the sweat and tension from his body. The icy temperature shocks his system at first, but after a few moments, it soothes his overworked muscles. Finishing up, he dries himself off and changes into a fresh set of clothes before making his way back to his workspace. ¡ª Alix enters his private workspace, a room lined with shelves of books, documents, and various magical artifacts. His desk is organized, filled with notes and detailed reports of shadow''s Intel about the three kingdoms. Alix leans back in his chair, exhaling. His mind is already shifting to his next task. He focuses for a moment, reaching out with his thoughts. "Varkas, if you''re ready, come to me now." A brief silence follows before a deep, composed voice replies in his mind. "I will be there shortly, Your Majesty." Alix nods to himself. While waiting, he retrieves a small, intricately designed box from his desk drawer. Inside lies an item he hasn''t used in a long time¡ªa set of enchanted rings designed to completely alter one''s appearance. A short while later, the air shifts, and a familiar presence approaches. The door opens silently, and Varkas steps inside, his imposing form moving with quiet precision. His crimson eyes flicker with curiosity as he bows slightly. "You called, Your Majesty?" Alix gestures toward the chair across from him. "Sit... We''re going to the human city." Alix lifting one of the rings from the box. "And put this on. We can''t exactly stroll in human city looking like this." Varkas straightens, and continue listening. "We can''t stroll in looking like this. So we need to use these" Alix smirks, lifting one of the rings from the box. Varkas takes a ring and examines it briefly before slipping it onto his finger. The transformation is instantaneous¡ªhis armor shifts into elegant noble attire, his eyes turn a deep brown, and his once-intimidating features soften into a refined, human knight appearance. Alix puts on his own ring, feeling the magic ripple through his body. His hair darkens to a deep brown, his eyes shift to a dull green, and his regal presence dims into something more unassuming. His usual commanding aura fades, replaced by the air of a noble. Varkas studies him briefly, then nods. "This should work. What''s our approach, your majesty?" Alix walks toward the door. "We''ll discuss that on the way. Let''s go." ¡ª Outside, a sleek, black flying carriage awaits them. Its enchanted wheels hover just above the ground, pulsating with faint blue mana. The two step inside, the doors shutting with a soft click. The interior is luxurious yet subtle¡ªdark leather seats, a small table, and tinted windows that obscure the view from the outside. As the carriage lifts into the sky, the hum of the mana fills the space with a gentle vibration. Alix settles into his seat and flicks his wrist, summoning a map that unfolds in the air before him. The detailed parchment displays the three major kingdoms, each marked with intricate sigils and landmarks. His finger hovers over one in particular. "We''re heading to the capital of Raltheon Kingdom," Alix says, his tone thoughtful. Varkas leans forward slightly, studying the map. His brow furrows. "Raltheon Kingdom... I''m not familiar with it." Alix glances at him, then nods in understanding. "Right. You were revived recently, so you wouldn''t know." He taps the map, zooming in on the region. "There are three major kingdoms in the human territories. Raltheon is the weakest of the three." Varkas listens in silence as Alix continues, his finger tracing across the map. "From the reports I received from the Shadows, Raltheon has been in decline for years. Its economy is struggling, its military is disorganized, and its nobility is fractured by internal conflicts. The only thing keeping it afloat is the fact that the other kingdoms haven''t made a move against it yet." He shifts his attention to the two other kingdoms. "Ordeya, on the other hand, is a merchant kingdom. Trade and wealth are their strengths. They control major trade routes and have connections with various races, which means their economy is stable, if not thriving. Thier military power is quite good. Though If a war broke out, they''d rely on mercenaries and hired forces, rather than a standing army." His finger moves again, this time stopping over Valgros. "Then there''s Valgros. A militaristic state, heavily fortified and always preparing for war. They prioritize strength and conquest over diplomacy. Their forces are disciplined, their leadership is strict, and their expansionist." Alix leans back, crossing his arms. "Our target is Raltheon because it''s the easiest to gain influence in. A kingdom in decline means its people are desperate, and desperate people are willing to pay for power. We''ll be selling skill books there, and if all goes well, we''ll secure a huge amount of gold coins." Varkas remains silent, processing the information. After a moment, he nods. Alix smirks. "Just remember¡ªthis is a business trip, not a battlefield. No fighting unless absolutely necessary." Varkas scratches the back of his head, sighing. "I''ll keep that in mind, Your Majesty." ---- The dirt road stretches ahead as the carriage rattles along, the sound of wooden wheels crunching against the path filling the air. Varkas holds the reins, his posture relaxed yet firm as he guides the horses forward. The grand, sleek flying carriage from before is nowhere to be seen¡ªAlix had long since swapped it for a simple, well-worn merchant''s carriage, blending in with the countless traders making their way to Eldoria. As they near the city''s towering gates, a long line of merchants and travelers comes into view. The guards stationed at the entrance, clad in dull steel armor, move methodically, checking papers and collecting entrance fees. Chapter 52: Auctioning Skill Books Alix observes quietly from inside the carriage before finally speaking. "One gold coin just to enter as a merchant... It''s a bit steep." Varkas glances at him through the open window. "Seems excessive for a kingdom in decline." Alix chuckles lightly. "That''s exactly why. When a kingdom is struggling, they squeeze whatever they can from those who still have wealth." Varkas doesn''t respond, simply steering the carriage forward as the line inches along. Eventually, it''s their turn. A guard, his helmet slightly tilted as if it barely fits, steps up and eyes them with practiced indifference. His gaze lingers on the carriage before shifting to Varkas and then to Alix, who sits calmly inside. "Merchant entry is one gold coin. State your business," the guard says flatly. Alix produces a pouch and pulls out a single gold coin, flipping it toward the man. The guard catches it with a grunt before inspecting it. "I deal in rare goods," Alix answers smoothly. "Books, artifacts¡ªthings that nobles and scholars find useful." The guard raises an eyebrow but doesn''t pry further. He steps aside, gesturing toward the gate. "You''re clear. Next." With a flick of the reins, Varkas guides the carriage into the bustling streets of Eldoria. The city is alive with movement¡ªmarket stalls line the roads, traders shout over one another, and the scent of baked bread and roasted meat fills the air. Despite its decline, Eldoria still holds remnants of its former prosperity. Alix leans back slightly, surveying the city through the window. "First, we need an inn. Then, we will go somewhere." Varkas nods, maneuvering the carriage deeper into the city. They soon arrive at an inn¡ªthe most luxurious one Eldoria has to offer. At least, that''s what the people claims. Varkas steps down from the carriage first, his sharp eyes scanning the building. The structure is made of aged stone and wood, with a grand entrance and decorative banners hanging from the balcony above. It''s well-maintained compared to the surrounding buildings, but in his eyes, it barely qualifies as decent. "This is their best inn?" Varkas mutters under his breath, unimpressed. "I''ve seen goblins live better back home." Alix steps out of the carriage, adjusting his coat. "Not everyone has the luxury of comparing everything to my city, Varkas." He smirks. Varkas exhales through his nose. "Even empty, the inns back home would make this place look like a roadside tavern." With that, he strides toward the entrance, and Varkas follows. The lobby is spacious, with polished wooden floors and a grand chandelier hanging above. A few guests lounge in the seating area, and a well-dressed innkeeper stands behind the reception desk, offering a professional smile as they approach. "Welcome, gentlemen. How may I assist you?" Alix places a pouch of gold on the counter. "A private suite. No disturbances." The innkeeper''s eyes flicker to the gold, and his smile widens. "Of course. Right this way." The room is spacious, with elegant furnishings and two large beds covered in dark red linens. A small table sits in the center, complete with a fruit platter and a bottle of wine. The decor is impressive by Eldoria''s standards, but Varkas still scoffs as he steps inside. A servant soon arrives, bringing their meals¡ªroasted lamb, fresh bread, and a hearty vegetable stew. They eat in silence, savoring the meal before Alix finally stands. "Now, we''re going to the auction house," Alix says, adjusting his coat. Varkas wipes his mouth with a napkin and immediately stands. "Understood, Your Majesty." Without further delay, they leave the inn, making their way through the bustling streets of Eldoria. The auction house is a grand structure near the city center, its entrance lined with torches and banners displaying the crest of a noble family. A steady flow of well-dressed individuals enters, their carriages lining the nearby streets. As Alix and Varkas approach, a guard steps forward, blocking their path with a firm hand. He eyes them critically before speaking. "Five thousand gold coins. Only those who have five thousand gold coins can participate." Alix doesn''t even blink. Instead, he tilts his head slightly. "I want to see the owner of this auction house. I have something to auction." The guard frowns but doesn''t immediately refuse. He glances toward the nearby receptionist, a young woman dressed in formal attire, who quickly approaches. "Sir," she says hesitantly, "the auction is about to start. I don''t think they''ll take any more items for tonight''s event." Alix exhales softly, his voice lowering. "That''s too bad. I was planning to auction some skill books." The air around them seems to shift. The receptionist''s eyes widen in shock, her breath catching for a moment. "Skill books?" she repeats, her voice barely above a whisper. Even the guard straightens slightly, his expression no longer indifferent. In Eldoria, skill books are incredibly rare¡ªso rare that even a Tier 1 skill could easily fetch thousands of gold coins at auction. The receptionist quickly regains her composure, forcing a polite smile. "Please, come in, sir." She gestures for them to follow, personally leading them inside. Instead of seating them in the general hall, she directs them to a private VIP room. The chamber is elegantly decorated, with plush seating and a clear view of the auction stage below. "Please wait here, sir," the receptionist says, bowing slightly. "I will inform my employer immediately." Shortly after, an elderly man enters the VIP room. He walks with a composed grace, his neatly trimmed silver beard and sharp, intelligent eyes giving off the air of a seasoned businessman. Dressed in a dark embroidered robe, he exudes the quiet authority of someone who has spent decades in the auction trade. "Good evening, sir." His voice is smooth, practiced. "My name is Edmar Valstorn, the head of this auction house. I was informed that you wish to auction some skill books?" Alix, seated comfortably, offers a slight nod. "Straight to the point. I like that," he says, setting down a small wooden box on the table. "I have three Tier 1 skill books here, as well as two Tier 2¡ªone skill and one spell." Chapter 53: A Young Lagomian "Tier 2... and a spell?" he echoes, barely able to mask his surprise. His gaze flickers to Alix and then to Varkas, standing silently beside him. In his mind, he quickly tries to assess them. ''This young man... No ordinary merchant could casually bring such treasures. He must be the son of a noble. The Ordeya Kingdom, perhaps?'' Maintaining his professional composure, Edmar clears his throat and smiles. "Sir, we will gladly add these to tonight''s auction. In fact, the Tier 2 skill and spell will be placed as the grand finale. Their value will undoubtedly attract fierce competition." Alix smirks slightly. "That''s what I''m counting on." Edmar inclines his head. "I will personally ensure they are presented at the perfect moment. As for your compensation, we take a ten percent cut from the final bid price. Is that acceptable?" Alix waves a hand dismissively. "Fine by me." "Excellent." Edmar claps his hands together. "The auction will begin shortly. Please, enjoy the privileges of the VIP room while you watch." With that, he departs, leaving Alix and Varkas alone. Varkas leans in slightly. "They''ll be desperate to get their hands on those books." Alix chuckles. "Exactly. Let''s see how much these nobles are willing to pay for power." The auction finally begins. A well-dressed auctioneer steps onto the grand stage, his voice clear and commanding as he welcomes the guests. The hall is filled with nobles, merchants, and wealthy adventurers, all waiting eagerly for the bidding to commence. "The first item of the night," the auctioneer announces, "is a finely crafted silver dagger, imbued with minor enchantments for durability and sharpness. A fine weapon for any noble''s collection or an adventurer in need of reliability. Starting bid¡ªfive hundred gold coins." back-and-forth, the dagger is sold for eight hundred gold. Alix watches from the VIP room, unimpressed. He takes a sip of the wine provided and glances at Varkas. "A basic enchanted dagger. Barely worth noticing." Varkas nods slightly. "If this is how they''re starting, I can only imagine how desperate they''ll be once the real treasures come out." The auction continues. A set of high-quality armor, a decorative gemstone necklace, and a few minor enchanted trinkets are brought forward, each selling for anywhere between five hundred to a thousand gold coins. Some items garner more attention, pushing past two thousand, but nothing causes much of a stir. Varkas arms crossed. "So far, nothing remarkable." Suddenly, the next auction item makes both of them squint slightly. The atmosphere in the hall shifts as a large, covered cage is wheeled onto the stage. When the cloth is pulled away, a small figure is revealed¡ªa young humanoid monster, her ears drooping as she curls up in the corner, eyes filled with fear. Alix immediately glances at Varkas. His jaw is clenched tight, his fists curled into shaking balls of rage. The sheer pressure of his aura thickens the air around them, a silent storm of fury barely restrained. Alix''s voice is calm but firm. "You need to calm down, Varkas. You''re not restraining your aura." Varkas inhales sharply, his breathing heavy, before closing his eyes. With a slow exhale, the pressure in the room fades. He bows his head slightly. "I''m sorry, Your Majesty. Please punish me for my lack of control." Alix sighs. "No need." His gaze shifts back to the auction floor, locking onto the trembling child. The auctioneer clears his throat. "A rare find indeed! A young Lagomian¡ªstrong, fast, and highly trainable. A perfect servant or pet. Starting bid¡ªone thousand gold coins!" Murmurs spread through the crowd, some intrigued, others indifferent. A few nobles lean forward, considering their bids. Alix''s expression darkens slightly. Then, in a quiet voice, he says, "Don''t worry. I will bid for her." The bidding starts immediately, nobles in the general seating raising their paddles without hesitation. "One thousand gold!" "One thousand five hundred!" "Two thousand!" The price climbs steadily, reaching five thousand gold coins in a matter of minutes. By this point, only the VIP guests are still bidding. "Five thousand five hundred!" a voice calls from another private room. "Six thousand!" another counters. Alix calmly raises his paddle. "Seven thousand." A hush spreads through the hall as the auctioneer''s gaze flickers toward the VIP rooms. "We have a bid of seven thousand from one of our esteemed guests! Do we have eight thousand?" A moment of hesitation, then¡ª "Eight thousand!" Alix smirks slightly. "Nine thousand." The whispers among the nobles grow louder. "Who in the VIP room is bidding?" "Why would anyone spend this much on a mere monster slave?" Even the auctioneer looks surprised. This shouldn''t be this expensive. Then¡ª "Ten thousand!" The hall falls silent. The auctioneer wipes his brow, his voice a little strained. "Ten thousand gold! Do we have any further bids?" The room stays quiet. "Going once... going twice... Sold! To our esteemed guest in the VIP room!" Alix leans back, watching as the cage is wheeled away. His gaze flickers toward Varkas, who is still standing stiffly. "See? Now she''s ours." Shortly after, a knock echoes at the VIP room door. The auction house receptionist enters, accompanied by two guards carrying the young Lagomian girl, her ears twitching anxiously as they set the cage down. The receptionist steps forward, holding out a small, metallic bracelet with glowing runes. "Your purchase, sir. This is a standard control item for slaves. Simply wear it, and with a command, you can issue direct orders. The slave will be unable to disobey." Alix stares at the bracelet for a moment before reaching out and taking it. His expression remains unreadable as he pockets it without a word. The receptionist hesitates briefly but then bows. "Enjoy your acquisition, sir." With a final nod, the staff leaves, shutting the door behind them. Silence lingers in the room. The only sound is the faint breathing of the child. Slowly, she lifts her head, her bright eyes filled with wariness and fear. Despite the trembling in her small frame, she forces herself to kneel properly, her ears flattened against her head. Chapter 54:The Nobles Fighting For Scraps "I greet my new master," she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Alix watches her for a moment before speaking. "Child, what is your name?" She hesitates, as if unsure if she''s allowed to answer. Then, after a moment, she swallows and whispers, "Liss." Alix nods. "Be at ease, Liss. You don''t have to kneel." The girl flinches slightly but obeys, shifting uncomfortably as she looks up at him. Alix then turns to Varkas. "Drop the disguise." Varkas nods, and in the next moment, both of their appearances shift. The illusion fades, revealing Alix''s features¡ªhis sharp face, pale skin, fierce eyes, and faint scales along his arms. Varkas, too, lets his true form emerge, his monstrous features stark and intimidating. Liss''s breath catches. Her red eyes widen in disbelief. Then, the weight of everything crashes down on her. Her body shakes violently as she stares at them, tears spilling from her eyes. "Sir, P-please... help me!" she cries, her voice cracking. "I don''t want to go back to the humans! Please, I''ll do anything!" Alix kneels down, keeping his voice steady. "Calm down, Liss. We are going to help you." Liss''s breath catches. Her small body tenses before her expression crumbles. Tears well up in her eyes, her voice desperate. "A-Also! Save him! You have to save him!" Alix''s gaze sharpens. "Who?" "My big brother!" she sobs, her tiny hands clutching the bars. "They took him too! H-He''s a slave to a noble! Please... I''ll do anything, just¡ªjust save him!" Alix''s expression remains calm, but his eyes darken slightly. He turns to Varkas, who is already looking at him, awaiting orders. "Calm her down," Alix says quietly. Varkas steps forward, kneeling beside the cage. His voice, usually cold, softens just slightly. "I will, Your Majesty. And... thank you." Then he turns his gaze to Liss. Alix understands the weight behind those words. He knows what Varkas is feeling¡ªthis moment is far too familiar for him. In the game, Varkas once had a daughter. She had been captured, enslaved by humans, and ultimately killed. It was that tragedy that fueled his hatred toward those who enslaved monsters. Now, he had a chance to save at least one child. Liss sniffles, but she looks at him with wide eyes. "You''ll save him?" Varkas gives a firm nod. "We will." Varkas pat her head, his eyes locked onto Liss''s. "After this auction, we will save your big brother. I promise you that." Liss stares at him, searching for any sign of falsehood, but all she finds is unwavering resolve. A shaky breath escapes her lips, and the tension in her small body finally eases. "O-Okay..." she whispers, wiping at her damp cheeks. Alix, watching the exchange, smile and said. "Good. Now, let''s focus." The auctioneer''s voice booms across the hall, bringing the crowd''s attention back to the stage. "And now, we present what was meant to be tonight''s grand finale¡ªa rare artifact from an ancient ruin! Behold, the Crimson Moon Pendant!" With a dramatic flourish, an attendant unveils a beautiful necklace with a deep red gemstone at its center, swirling with faint magical energy. Murmurs ripple through the crowd. "A mana-amplifying relic?" "I heard it boosts fire spells immensely!" "A treasure like that is priceless!" Alix, however, remains unimpressed. Compared to the skill books he provided, this item is minor. The bidding begins, and as expected, the nobles go wild. The price climbs rapidly¡ªthree thousand, ten thousand, twenty thousand gold in mere moments. Alix leans back, swirling the wine in his glass as the numbers climb. The nobles are desperate, their voices growing louder with each bid. But he already knows¡ªthis is nothing compared to what''s coming next. Varkas watches the stage with mild disinterest. "They''re fighting over scraps." Alix smirks. "Let them. The real show is about to begin." The Crimson Moon Pendant is finally sold for thirty-five thousand gold, and the auctioneer claps his hands together. "Ladies and gentlemen, what an incredible bid! But... tonight is far from over." A murmur spreads through the hall. The auction was supposed to be finished¡ªwhat else could they possibly have? The auctioneer grins, letting the anticipation build before dramatically gesturing to his assistants. "We have an exclusive addition to tonight''s event! Something so rare, so extraordinary, that it will surely shake the very foundations of power in this room." The tension thickens. With a theatrical motion, the auctioneer unveils a velvet-covered stand. On it, three books rest, their covers glowing faintly with enchantment. "Behold¡ªthree Tier 1 skill books!" "This isn''t a joke, is it?! Where did they get such a thing?!" The auctioneer laughs, raising a hand for silence. "Ladies and gentlemen, please! The starting bid is set at fifty thousand gold per book. Nobles immediately begin barking orders at their subordinates. "Go! Get more gold, now!" "Find the treasurer, tell him to prepare everything!" "I don''t care what it takes¡ªI need that book!" The bidding starts instantly. "Fifty-five thousand!" "Sixty thousand!" "Seventy thousand!" The numbers climb at a dizzying pace. Some nobles throw in bids without hesitation, while others grit their teeth, weighing their options. The sheer rarity of skill books pushes them to their limits. "One hundred thousand!" Gasps ripple through the crowd. The tension is thick, but the frenzy doesn''t stop. "One hundred and ten thousand!" "One hundred and twenty!" The nobles glare at each other, beads of sweat forming on their brows. Some have already backed down, their wealth unable to compete. But a few are still in the fight, their gazes burning with greed. "One hundred and forty thousand!" The room holds its breath. Silence lingers¡ªuntil one last voice cuts through. "One hundred and fifty thousand!" The hall erupts in murmurs. No one dares to bid higher. That price for a single Tier 1 skill book is already absurd. The auctioneer lets the silence stretch before slamming his gavel down. "Sold! For one hundred and fifty thousand gold!" Cheers and sighs fill the air¡ªsome thrilled, others bitter with defeat. Alix watches it all unfold, a smirk tugging at his lips. "And that... is just Tier 1." Chapter 55: Tier 2 Spell, Infernal Surge The other two books are sold quickly, though the intensity of the bidding has slightly diminished. "One hundred and five thousand!" "One hundred and ten!" "One hundred and twelve thousand going once... going twice... sold!" The final bid barely crosses a hundred thousand, as some nobles have exhausted their resources. Despite this, their expressions remain a mix of excitement and frustration. Skill books are invaluable, and even Tier 1 holds immense worth. The auctioneer, still riding the energy of the last bids, grins as he gestures toward his assistants once more. "And now, for something even greater. A treasure of higher caliber¡ªTier 2 skills!" The room buzzes again, anticipation crackling in the air. Two more books are brought onto the stage, their covers glowing with a stronger enchantment than the previous ones. "Behold! A Tier 2 combat skill¡ª''Phantom Edge''¡ªa technique that allows the wielder to unleash afterimage strikes, overwhelming opponents with sheer speed!" Gasps fill the room. "And if that wasn''t enough... a Tier 2 spell! ''Infernal Surge''¡ªa devastating fire spell capable of engulfing an entire battlefield in flames!" The nobles practically vibrate with excitement. "This is beyond rare!" "A Tier 2 spell... if we had this, our mages could rival entire armies!" But before the auction can begin, a sudden commotion at the entrance halts everything. The crowd turns as the doors swing open. A man clad in elegant yet subtly reinforced attire strides in, flanked by two armored guards. His presence alone is enough to send whispers rippling through the hall. "The royal family sent a representative?" "What is the meaning of this?" Alix watches with mild amusement as the auctioneer hurriedly bows, his voice respectful but eager. "Ah, Lord Viran! What an honor to have you join us." Viran, a middle-aged noble with sharp eyes and a calculating expression, nods once. "I was told that skill books are being auctioned here. The royal family wishes to partake." A hush falls over the room. Some nobles exchange nervous glances. Competing against other nobles is one thing¡ªbut against the royal family''s wealth? That''s an entirely different game. The auctioneer quickly composes himself. "Of course, my lord! You arrived at the perfect time. A Tier 2 combat skill and spell are now available for bidding." Viran steps forward, his gaze briefly scanning the books before settling onto the auctioneer. "Then let us begin. The royal treasury is ready to claim what belongs at the top." The auctioneer, his smile unwavering, quickly gestures to a nearby attendant. "Please, escort Lord Viran to a vacant VIP room." A well-dressed servant bows and swiftly leads Viran and his guards toward an elevated seating area, draped in fine silk and positioned for an optimal view of the stage. The murmurs in the crowd persist, but no one dares openly question the royal family''s presence. Once Viran is settled, the auctioneer clears his throat. "Now then! Without further delay, let us resume the auction!" He turns back to the crowd, his enthusiasm never faltering. "We shall begin with the Tier 2 combat skill¡ªPhantom Edge! The starting bid is set at one hundred thousand gold!" A noble from the front row immediately raises his fan. "One hundred and ten thousand!" The competition heats up quickly. Unlike the previous Tier 1 books, there is no hesitation this time. A combat skill of this level could change the fate of a duelist, a knight, even an entire family''s standing. Alix watches with a hint of amusement. The nobles are desperate. Some grip their chairs tightly, their knuckles white as they consider their bids. "Two hundred thousand!" Gasps ripple through the crowd. The bidder, an older noble with silver hair, straightens his posture as if daring anyone to challenge him. But Viran merely chuckles from his VIP seat. He raises a single hand. "Two hundred and fifty thousand." Silence follows. The weight of the royal treasury is undeniable. Even the boldest nobles hesitate. A younger lord, sweat forming at his brow, grits his teeth. "Two hundred and seventy!" Viran barely reacts. He raises his hand again, his voice calm and measured. "Three hundred thousand." The hall goes dead silent. No one speaks. No one moves. The auctioneer, sensing no further bids, smiles broadly. "Three hundred thousand going once... going twice... sold! The Tier 2 skill book, Phantom Edge, now belongs to the royal family!" A round of polite applause follows, though the tension in the room remains thick. Viran reclines slightly, pleased but unsurprised. He had expected no real opposition. The auctioneer claps his hands. "And now, the next item¡ªperhaps even more sought after than the last. The Tier 2 spell... Infernal Surge!" Unlike before, there is no pause. The moment the bidding opens, the nobles erupt. "One hundred and fifty thousand!" "Two hundred thousand!" "Two hundred and fifty thousand!" It is a battlefield of voices, each noble more desperate than the last. A powerful spell like Infernal Surge could change the tide of wars, dominate battlefields, and cement a family''s influence for generations. Alix swirls his wine, his golden eyes watching the chaos unfold. A group of nobles in one of the VIP room turn toward each other. "Work together," one whispers. "If we combine our resources, we can outbid him!" Several of them nod in agreement. Moments later, one of them¡ªan older noble with a deep purple cloak¡ªraises his hand. "Three hundred and fifty thousand!" The hall gasps. Even Viran raises an eyebrow at the unexpected resistance. The nobles who joined forces watch him carefully, their expressions tense. If they win, they will split the spell among their houses, a temporary alliance for an unmatched power. For a brief moment, it seems possible. But then, Viran said. "Four hundred thousand." A heavy silence follows Viran''s bid. The nobles who had allied together glance at each other, their confidence wavering. Some grip their chairs tightly, others shift uncomfortably in place. Then, an older noble in a regal navy-blue coat lets out a weary sigh. He slowly rises from his seat, his stern gaze sweeping over the room before settling on the younger lords who had dared to challenge Viran. "All of you should stop now," his voice is calm yet carries the weight of experience. "Even if you pool all your resources together, you won''t be able to secure it. This isn''t the time for us to anger the royal family." Chapter 56: Nikon The gathered nobles exchange hesitant looks, reluctant but understanding. The old noble''s expression hardens. "The royal family is desperate right now, especially after what happened to Misorn City. They''re already on edge, and if we push them further, it won''t end well for us." His voice lowers, a warning laced within. "We don''t want our plans to be ruined over a single spell book." Several nobles flinch at the mention of Misorn. The situation there is volatile, and the royal family''s grip on power is not as secure as it once was. Testing their patience now could have dire consequences. Seeing the the nobles didn''t bid anymore, Viran said with an amused smirk. "Smart choice," he says lazily. Then, turning back to the auctioneer, he gestures dismissively. "Shall we proceed?" The auctioneer, sensing no further bids, clears his throat. "Four hundred thousand going once... going twice... sold! The Tier 2 spell book, Infernal Surge, now belongs to the royal family!" Polite applause follows, but the air is heavy with subdued tension. Some nobles cast bitter glances toward Viran, while others sit in silence, resigned to their loss. In the VIP room above, Alix leans back in his chair, swirling his wine with mild amusement. He watches the defeated nobles, their brief unity dissolving into quiet frustration. "Too bad," he murmurs, his eyes flickering with interest. "The nobles stopped fighting for it." As the hall begins to settle, another figure approaches the VIP section¡ªan older man, dressed in fine robes embroidered with the insignia of the auction house. His posture is straight, his steps measured, and his sharp eyes reveal the mind of a seasoned merchant. Alix recognizes him immediately. This is the owner of the auction house, the one who personally sought him out after hearing that skill books would be auctioned. The man stops before Alix''s table, offering a polite but knowing smile. "Lord Alix, I trust the auction went as expected?" His voice is smooth, the tone of a man accustomed to high-stakes dealings. Alix studies him for a moment before giving a slight nod. "Better than expected." The auction house owner chuckles, his gaze flicking toward the heavy pouch Alix received moments ago. "That much is clear. Few would dare to part with such rare goods, let alone multiple skill books. It seems you have a rather... unique source." Alix merely swirls his wine, his expression unreadable. "A businessman shouldn''t question where his merchandise comes from. Only whether it sells." The older man''s smile widens slightly. "A fair point." He gestures to the bustling hall below. "Your offerings have caused quite a stir among the noble circles. I imagine there will be no shortage of interested buyers should you decide to auction again." Alix leans back, his golden eyes glinting with amusement. "If the price is right." The auction house owner chuckles again, clearly pleased. "Naturally." He then reaches into his sleeve and withdraws a small, intricately designed token. "A mark of priority. If you ever wish to auction more goods, present this at the entrance. You will be given the highest level of service." Alix takes the token, running a thumb over the fine engravings. A simple but useful gesture. The old man inclines his head. "I look forward to our future dealings, Lord Alix." Alix pockets the token without a word, rising from his seat. Varkas, ever the disciplined warrior, falls in step beside him, his posture straight and unwavering, fully embracing his role as a knight. Liss, however, keeps glancing between Alix and Varkas, her expression tense as if she wants to speak but hesitates. Her small hands clutch at the hem of her worn cloak, her brows furrowed in deep thought. Varkas notices and, without breaking stride, chuckles softly. "Don''t worry," he says, his voice unusually gentle. "Once we reach the inn, you''ll be surprised." His tone reassures her, but it only makes her more restless. She fidgets as they weave through the streets, her anxious energy almost palpable. By the time they arrive at the inn, Liss barely manages to hold herself together. But the moment she steps inside and her eyes land on a familiar figure, all restraint shatters. "B-big brother!" she cries, her voice breaking. The boy, barely fifteen but already carrying himself with the quiet wariness of someone forced to grow up too soon, turns sharply at her voice. His dark eyes widen in shock as Liss rushes forward and throws herself at him, clutching his tunic tightly. "Big brother, why are you here?" she sobs. "What about that old noble?" Nikon instinctively wraps his arms around her, his expression softening. He ruffles her hair, but his gaze quickly sharpens when he notices the two figures standing behind her¡ªAlix and Varkas, their human disguises still in place. His grip on Liss tightens. "Who are they?" he demands, his voice cautious. "Why are you with them?" Liss, still sniffling, glances back at Alix and Varkas. She opens her mouth, but before she can explain, Varkas sighs. "Relax, kid," he says, a bit amused. Then, with a casual wave of his hand, his disguise vanishes. His true form¡ªa towering, armored beast of war¡ªemerges in full view. Alix follows suit, his eyes gleaming with faint amusement as his human illusion dissipates, revealing his true monstrous presence. Nikon''s entire body tenses for a split second. But then¡ª He exhales, his shoulders sagging in sheer relief. "Oh, thank the ancestors," he mutters, rubbing his face. Liss pulls away slightly, wiping her teary eyes before looking up at her brother. "Big brother, how did you escape your master?" Nikon''s expression darkens slightly, but he shakes his head. "I didn''t escape." His voice lowers. "It was those monsters¡ªthe ones that look like shadows. They killed all the guards in the mansion and took me with them." Varkas folds his arms, nodding. "Kid, you should be thanking His Majesty." He gestures toward Alix. "Those monsters are his subordinates." Nikon''s eyes widen slightly as he turns to Alix, his posture stiffening. He hesitates before bowing his head. "Thank you... Your Majesty." He swallows hard before asking, "Are you... our new master?" Chapter 57: Noctaris City Alix chuckles, shaking his head. "Not a new master." His golden eyes glimmer with something unreadable. "Starting today, you''re no longer slaves. You''re already citizens of my kingdom." Liss gasps, her small hands clutching at her chest. "S-Sir, are you really a king?" she asks, her voice hushed with shock. She hesitates before adding in a quieter voice, "I thought you just liked being called Your Majesty..." Varkas lets out a deep laugh, while Alix merely smirks. "I don''t need to pretend," he says smoothly. "You''ll understand soon enough." Nikon hesitates before nodding slowly. "Your Majesty, thank you for not seeing us as slaves," he says, his voice steady but laced with uncertainty. "But... as long as we have the slave mark, we will always be servants." Alix''s gaze sharpens. "Come here. Let me take a look." Nikon glances at Liss, who gives him an encouraging nod. Taking a deep breath, he steps forward and tilts his head slightly, exposing the slave mark on his neck. The intricate black seal pulses faintly, a constant reminder of his status. Alix examines it closely, his eyes narrowing. Without hesitation, he raises a hand and channels a Tier 4 dispelling spell. A faint golden light envelops the mark¡ªbut the moment the spell touches it, the light flickers and shatters like fragile glass. Nothing changes. Alix exhales through his nose, his expression unreadable. "That''s interesting." Nikon stiffens. "Your Majesty?" Alix pulls back, tapping a finger against his arm in thought. As a player, he isn''t restricted by class limitations¡ªhe can use any skill or spell as long as he meets the stat requirements. And his jack-of-all-trades build gives him access to a vast range of abilities. But this... This means the slave mark isn''t something a standard dispel can remove. He meets Nikon''s wary gaze and offers a calm smile. "I''ll dispel it once we reach my home." Liss visibly brightens, hope flickering in her eyes. Nikon, however, remains skeptical. He doesn''t doubt Alix''s power¡ªthe man radiates an overwhelming presence¡ªbut he knows how strong the slave mark''s binding magic is. Still, he doesn''t argue. Nikon looks skeptical but doesn''t voice his doubt. Instead, he nods. "Understood." Liss, however, clings to his sleeve. "Really?" she whispers, almost afraid to hope. Alix just smirks. "I don''t make empty promises." After a brief pause, he glances at Varkas. "Change of plans. We''re leaving now. I''ve already done what I came here for." Varkas nods without question. "I''ll prepare the carriage." Alix glances around the dimly lit inn. "I came here for the auction. Now that it''s done, there''s no reason to stay." Nikon exchanges a glance with Liss before straightening his back. "Then... we''ll follow you." Alix''s smirk deepens. "Of course you will." Once they are far enough from the city, Alix steps out of the carriage and places a hand on its side. A faint pulse of magic ripples outward, and in an instant, the entire carriage begins to shift. The sturdy wooden wheels retract, the frame expands slightly, and shimmering golden runes light up along its edges. Then¡ª With a soft hum, the carriage lifts off the ground. Liss gasps, clutching Nikon''s arm as the entire vehicle rises smoothly into the air. Nikon''s eyes widen, his grip tightening on the seat. He has seen many things in his life, but a flying carriage? This is beyond anything he ever imagined. As the carriage gains altitude, the transformation completes. The interior expands far beyond what should be possible, turning into a spacious, luxurious chamber. Plush seats, polished wooden panels, and a massive crystal-clear window stretching across one side offer an unobstructed view of the sky. Liss practically presses her face against the window, her tail flicking excitedly. "Wow! Your Majesty, are you some kind of god?" she blurts out, eyes gleaming with awe. Alix laughs, shaking his head. "I''m not a god. I''m just like you..." Nikon stares at him, deadpan. A normal monster? He silently glances around the lavish flying carriage before looking back at Alix. Normal monster, my ass. He doesn''t voice his thoughts, but deep down, he knows this is no ordinary being. Even the most powerful nobles of the Raltheon Kingdom couldn''t compare. If they were kings in their own right, then in front of Alix, they were nothing more than commoners. The carriage soars through the sky, crossing vast landscapes in mere hours. Forests, rivers, and mountains blur beneath them, and the air itself feels different¡ªpurer, more alive. Then, just as the sun begins to dip below the horizon, they see it. A city unlike any other. Towering black walls stretch endlessly, adorned with massive golden banners that shimmer in the fading sunlight. A vast network of bridges and spires rises above the grand cityscape, seamlessly blending ancient architecture with modern advancements. Floating platforms drift lazily in the air, powered by unseen forces. At the heart of it all stands an enormous palace, its dark obsidian-like structure crowned with glowing runes that pulse with power. Alix leans forward slightly, his golden eyes reflecting the breathtaking sight. "Welcome," he says, his voice carrying a quiet pride. "This is Noctaris¡ªthe capital of my kingdom." Liss grips Nikon''s arm even tighter. "It''s beautiful..." she breathes, unable to tear her eyes away. Nikon swallows, still trying to process everything. "Your majesty, may I know the name of your kingdom...?" he asks hesitantly. Alix smirks. "Erevaris. The Eternal Sovereignty." Silence fills the carriage as they take in the name. It carries weight, power, and an undeniable sense of grandeur. Nikon exhales slowly. "So this... this is the power of a true king." ---- Inside a dimly lit chamber deep within the palace, an eerie atmosphere lingers in the air. Strange contraptions line the walls¡ªsome glowing with unknown energy, others pulsing with dark magic. The room hums faintly, as if alive. Liss clings to Nikon''s sleeve, her tail bristling. "I don''t like this place," she whispers, eyes darting around. Varkas grimaces, folding his arms. "Your Majesty... is this Lord Magnius'' domain?" Alix leans casually against a nearby table, unfazed. "It is." Chapter 58: Magnius Varkas mutters under his breath, clearly uncomfortable. He rarely speaks about other subordinates unless they''re exceptional, and in Alix''s ranks, only those above level 700 earn his acknowledgment. Magnius is one of them. A level 800 plus necromancer, Magnius is known for his relentless experimentation. It doesn''t matter if it''s a human, a unique monster, or any being with intelligence¡ªif they interest him, he studies them. His methods are... unconventional. Some would call them horrific. But to Alix, Magnius is one of his most valuable assets. It was normal for NPCs in games to have their own thoughts, to interact with players as if they were real. But Magnius took that concept further¡ªhis inventions played a critical role in Alix''s victories against other players. Though, admittedly, some of those creations were rather twisted. The room is unnervingly silent. Though once bustling with strange undead assisting Magnius in his research, it now stands eerily empty. Dust coats the massive shelves of tomes, and the flickering green runes on the walls pulse weakly, like a heartbeat slowing to a stop. The absence of life¡ªor rather, unlife¡ªis almost unsettling. Varkas exhales sharply. "Your Majesty... you''re not planning to experiment on them, are you?" His tone is laced with hesitation, as if he''s afraid of the answer. Alix snorts. "Do I look like a twisted person to you?" Varkas doesn''t answer immediately. Alix narrows his eyes. "Really? That long of a pause?" Varkas clears his throat. "It''s just¡ªthis is lord Magnius we''re talking about." "Exactly," Alix says smoothly. "And you know, before his death, Magnius created a Tier 8 spell¡ªone capable of destroying any contract, including slave marks. He should have stored it in a spellbound crystal somewhere in here." Nikon blinks. "A Tier 8 spell...?" He isn''t well-versed in high-level magic, but even he knows that anything above Tier 4 is practically legendary in Raltheon Kingdom. Liss''s eyes dart around the room, taking in the eerie glow of the runes and the strange objects scattered across the tables. Some look like mechanical limbs fused with bones, others resemble glass containers filled with swirling, dark mist. Everything looks fragile and dangerous, but she doesn''t reach out to touch anything¡ªjust in case. Nikon stands beside her, arms crossed. His brows furrow as he studies a suspended metal cage near the ceiling. "What even is all this?" he mutters under his breath. Liss tugs on his sleeve, her voice hushed. "It''s so weird. Some of these things look... alive." She shudders slightly, eyeing a severed hand encased in a glass tube. The fingers twitch every few seconds as if trying to grasp something. "Don''t stare too long," Nikon warns. "You don''t want to catch a curse." Liss squeaks and quickly looks away. Meanwhile, Alix and Varkas move deeper into the chamber. Varkas pulls open a heavy drawer, his movements careful but practiced. Inside, neatly stacked crystals glow with faint hues¡ªreds, blues, greens¡ªbut none match the signature dark violet of a spellbound crystal capable of holding Tier 8 magic. Varkas exhales sharply. "Nothing. Lord Magnius must''ve stored it somewhere more secure." Alix doesn''t respond immediately. Instead, he steps toward a tall, black cabinet at the far end of the room. Unlike the rest of the furniture, it''s free of dust, the runes lining its edges still pulsing with faint energy. Alix stops in front of the black cabinet, tilting his head slightly as he studies it. Then, as if recalling something, he chuckles. "Oh, I remember now," he says, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Magnius did reveal to me his secret door and how to open it." Without further explanation, he presses his palm against a faintly glowing rune on the cabinet''s surface. The moment his skin makes contact, a sharp pulse of energy surges through the air. A deep, mechanical click echoes through the chamber. Liss flinches at the sudden noise but doesn''t say anything. Nikon, standing rigid beside her, watches silently, his fists clenched at his sides. The runes on the cabinet begin shifting, rearranging themselves in a slow, deliberate pattern. Then, with another resonating click, the entire back panel of the cabinet slides downward, revealing a hidden passage beyond. A narrow staircase spirals downward into darkness, an ominous green glow faintly illuminating the descent. Alix steps forward, peering down the spiraling staircase with an intrigued expression. The eerie green glow flickers against the stone walls, casting long shadows that dance with every small movement. "Let''s go in," Alix says, his tone casual yet firm. Then, he glances at Varkan. "Protect the children." Varkas straightens. "Yes, Your Majesty." Without hesitation, he moves behind Liss and Nikon, positioning himself to shield them from any potential danger. The children remain silent, watching everything with wide eyes but making no complaints. Alix leads the way down, his footsteps echoing in the confined space. As they descend, the air grows colder, tinged with the faint scent of magic and metal. When they finally step into the hidden chamber, Alix can''t help but smirk. The room is vast¡ªlarger than expected, stretching far beyond what should be physically possible underground. The walls are lined with half-finished contraptions, glowing runes scribbled hastily onto parchments pinned to workbenches, and towering glass containers filled with suspended, incomplete experiments. Strange skeletal constructs, missing limbs or frozen in various stages of assembly, rest on heavy metal tables. Alix whistles, impressed. "Looks like Magnius was busy." Varkas scans the room, his expression filled with amazement. "What are these? I can feel a sense of dread from these items." Alix stepping toward a table where an unfinished automaton rests, its exposed core pulsing weakly. "But these... these are new. Incomplete, yes, but still filled with potential." Varkas said. "So many of these creations... Some of them are... alive in a way that shouldn''t be possible." Alix said. "Magnius was a genius. His work was always pushing boundaries, and all these unfinished pieces? They''re a testament to his brilliance." He steps closer to an intricately designed creature¡ªits limbs connected by thin strands of glowing energy, but it''s motionless for now. "None of these are harmful. Not yet, at least. But they hold untapped potential. I can''t wait to revive him and make him continue all these masterpieces." His voice drops, almost dreamily, as he gazes at the array of creations. Chapter 59: The Slave Mark Is Gone Varkas glances at Alix, still uncomfortable with the surroundings but trying to mask his concerns. "Lord Magnius is a gem in His Majesty''s kingdom. His genius is unparalleled." Alix smirks, his eyes lighting up with anticipation. "Yes, he is. And I''m going to make sure he continues his work." He straightens up, his tone turning sharp and focused. "Now, let''s find that spellbound crystal. It has to be here somewhere." Varkas nods and begins scanning the room again, his sharp eyes sweeping across the various workstations and the strange array of creations. "If it''s here, it''s likely hidden in one of these more secure locations," he mutters, walking towards a stack of metal crates in the corner. Alix moves toward a high shelf where a few scrolls are tucked away, checking for any sign of the crystal. The soft hum of the room seems to grow louder with the anticipation of finding the coveted object. "I know it''s here," Alix murmurs to himself, his fingers brushing over the ancient, leather-bound tomes. "Magnius wouldn''t leave it just lying around." Varkas pauses, turning towards a large stone pedestal in the center of the room. Resting atop it is a dusty, ornate box¡ªits intricate design unlike anything else in the chamber. He walks over slowly, every step measured as if expecting the box to react to his proximity. "I think this might be it," Varkas says, his voice steady but with a trace of uncertainty. He reaches out and carefully opens the box, revealing a single, pulsating crystal. Its dark violet glow stands in stark contrast to the dim green light around them. Alix''s eyes lock onto the crystal as Varkas carefully lifts it from the box. The faint violet glow pulses rhythmically, as if responding to the energy in the room. He walks toward the center of the chamber, the crystal held delicately in his hands. "Yes, this is it," Alix mutters, his voice sharp with anticipation. He turns to Liss and Nikon, who are still standing silently near Varkan, their eyes wide with curiosity and confusion. The atmosphere around them feels heavy, almost oppressive, as if the air itself is thick with the power contained within the crystal. Alix approaches them slowly, his expression steady but focused. "Liss and Nikon, come close to me," he calls, his voice calm yet authoritative. Liss and Nikon exchange nervous glances before stepping forward. Liss hesitates for a moment, her eyes flicking nervously between Alix and the ominous glow of the crystal, but she follows Nikon without a word. "Stand right there," Alix orders, pointing to a spot in front of him. He holds the crystal out in front of him, the dark violet light now casting eerie shadows on the walls. "No matter what happens, don''t move. Don''t speak. Don''t do anything. Just stand and trust me." Liss and Nikon stand where Alix directed them, their bodies tense with uncertainty. They glance at each other, but neither of them speaks. The air is thick with the weight of Alix''s command, and the strange, pulsating glow of the spellbound crystal seems to draw them in. "Do you understand?" Alix asks, his tone more firm now. Nikon nods quickly, his heart racing. "Yes, Your Majesty," he says, though there''s a slight tremor in his voice. Liss simply gives a stiff nod, eyes darting nervously between the crystal and Alix. Alix smiles slightly, a reassuring but enigmatic look on his face. "Good. Now, stay still." He holds the crystal in both hands, his fingers wrapping around it carefully. The violet light intensifies, swirling in a mesmerizing pattern, and a faint hum fills the chamber. The temperature drops, and a shiver runs down Liss''s spine as she feels the magic in the air. Alix raises the crystal slowly, bringing it closer to Liss and Nikon''s necks, where the unmistakable mark of their former enslavement rests¡ªdark, twisted symbols burned into their flesh. The runes on the crystal begin to glow more brightly, responding to the presence of the slave marks. Alix murmurs softly under his breath, his eyes locked onto the marks on their necks. The room feels still, save for the eerie hum of the crystal and the rhythmic pulse of energy radiating from it. "Hold your breath," Alix says quietly. Liss and Nikon exchange a glance, then instinctively close their eyes. With a final, fluid motion, Alix presses the crystal gently but firmly to the base of their necks. The crystal pulses once, twice, and then a sharp crack echoes through the room. It sounds like glass shattering¡ªloud, sudden, and almost violent. Liss gasps, her fingers instinctively reaching for her neck. But there''s no pain¡ªonly a strange, overwhelming sensation of release, as though something oppressive has been ripped away. The mark on her skin, once a twisted black symbol of her binding, shatters like glass, leaving behind only smooth, unblemished flesh. The same happens to Nikon, his mark breaking away as if it was never there to begin with. The air feels lighter now, the oppressive weight lifting from them both. Liss lets out a shaky breath, her eyes wide as she looks at Alix. "Is it... gone?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, still in disbelief. Alix nods slowly, a rare moment of satisfaction crossing his face. "It''s gone. You''re free." Liss and Nikon stare at Alix, their expressions a mixture of awe and disbelief. The weight they had carried for so long¡ªthe branding of slavery¡ªis gone. Truly gone. A second passes before the realization fully sinks in, and then, as if their legs can no longer hold them, both children kneel on the cold stone floor. Nikon bows his head deeply. "Thank you for giving us this freedom, Your Majesty." His voice is steady, but there''s raw emotion beneath it. Liss follows his lead, her small hands clenching into fists as she tries to suppress the tears welling up in her eyes. She wants to say something, but the lump in her throat keeps her silent. Chapter 60: Getting Adopted Alix crosses his arms, gazing down at them with an unreadable expression. "Don''t mention it." His voice is calm, yet there''s a weight to it. His gaze softens slightly as he tilts his head. "So, what are you two going to do now? Do you know where your tribes are located?" Liss''s head snaps up, her expression suddenly clouding. The question strikes deep, and the joy of freedom is quickly overshadowed by a painful memory. She lowers her gaze again, her voice barely above a whisper. "We... we don''t know. The humans attacked our home. They either kidnapped or killed our people. We were separated from everyone when they took us away." Nikon''s jaw tightens. "That''s how we became slaves. The ones they didn''t kill, they sold." His fists clench at his sides, a flicker of anger flashing in his usually composed expression. A heavy silence falls over the room. Even Varkas, who had been standing quietly at Alix''s side, exhales sharply. His eyes darken with something unspoken. Then, suddenly, he steps forward. "Your Majesty," he says, his voice firm. "I want to adopt these two." Liss and Nikon freeze. Alix blinks, then throws his head back with a short, amused laugh. "Varkas, don''t ask me." He gestures toward the children with a smirk. "Ask them if they want to." "I know I can''t replace your family," he says, his voice quieter now, more personal. "But I can give you a home, protection, and a future where you don''t have to worry about being taken again." He looks between them, his golden eyes unwavering. "If you want that, I''ll take responsibility for you both." Liss and Nikon exchange glances. It''s not an easy decision. Their families, their tribes¡ªif any of them survived, they should be searching for them. But the painful truth is that they don''t know where to begin. They don''t even know if their people are still alive. Nikon takes a deep breath, his fists still clenched. His whole life, he has dreamed of finding his people, of avenging those who were taken and protecting what little he has left¡ªhis sister. He looks up at Varkan, his golden eyes searching for something, maybe reassurance, maybe certainty. "Will you teach me?" Nikon asks, his voice quieter now but still firm. "If I become your son... will you make me strong enough to never lose again?" Varkas''s expression doesn''t change, but there''s something different in his gaze. He steps forward, placing a heavy hand on Nikon''s shoulder. "I will. But strength isn''t just about swinging a sword or taking revenge. If you choose this path, you''ll train until your bones ache, until you''re exhausted beyond belief. You''ll learn discipline, patience, and control. Strength is nothing without the wisdom to wield it." Nikon hesitates for only a moment before nodding. "I understand. I''ll do it." Then, almost shyly, he adds, "...Father." Liss gasps softly, her eyes darting between Nikon and Varkan. For a second, Varkan seems frozen. Then, he exhales through his nose, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle. "Then prepare yourself, boy. You''ve just chosen the hardest path of all." Nikon turns to Liss, his expression softer now. "Little sister, do you not want to get adopted?" His voice is gentle, but there''s a hint of concern beneath it. Liss looks down at her hands, twisting her fingers together. For a moment, she stays quiet, her small brows furrowed in thought. Then, she peeks up at Nikon before glancing toward Varkan. Her voice comes out small, almost hesitant. "Of course, I want to... I want to have a father." She shifts on her feet, her cheeks turning slightly pink as she adds, "I just... never thought I would." Varkas watches her carefully, his golden eyes unreadable. Then, with a sigh, he kneels before her, lowering himself to her level. "Then from today onward, you have one." His tone is firm but not unkind. "No one will take you away again." Liss''s eyes widen. Her lips press together as if holding back tears. Then, slowly, she nods. "Okay... Father." A small, warm smile tugs at Varkan''s lips, barely noticeable. He reaches out and ruffles her hair, making her scrunch up her nose in protest. Alix, watching the exchange, shakes his head with a smirk. "Well, that''s settled, then. Varkan, you''ve got two new kids. Try not to scare them off with your strict training on the first day." Liss giggles softly, while Nikon exhales, his tense posture finally easing. Alix glances at them once more before nodding toward Varkan. "You can go now. Get them settled in, familiarize them with your home." Varkas places a hand on each of their shoulders, giving a small nod of gratitude. "Understood. Thank you, Your Majesty." He turns to Liss and Nikon. "Come, you two." Liss hesitates for a moment, casting one last look at Alix before following Nikon and Varkan out of the chamber. As the heavy doors close behind them, Alix lets out a quiet breath, his sharp eyes scanning the dimly lit room once more. He lingers for a few minutes, moving between shelves, inspecting old tomes, and checking the intricate devices scattered across the tables. If Magnius left anything else of value here, it would be hidden well. But after another careful sweep, he finds nothing useful¡ªjust broken artifacts, half-finished projects, and worn-out scrolls that crumble at his touch. "Nothing can be useful." Alix mutters, straightening up. There''s no point in wasting more time here. With that, he steps out of the chamber, making his way back to his private quarters. The moment he enters, the tension in his shoulders eases slightly. He removes his coat, tossing it onto a nearby chair before sinking into a comfortable seat. Finally, a moment to relax. ---- The Eldoria city is heavy with unease. The usual lively streets are subdued, the air thick with whispers and tension. Shopkeepers glance around warily, their voices hushed as they speak to their customers. Soldiers patrol in higher numbers than usual, their presence a clear sign that something is wrong. Chapter 61: Urgent Report Last night, a noble¡ªone of the more arrogant ones¡ªreturned from the auction only to find all his guards slaughtered and his prized slave missing. The gruesome sight shook the city''s elite, and now, accusations fly like arrows in a battlefield. Inside a grand estate, several nobles gather in a dimly lit chamber. The atmosphere is thick with anger and suspicion. "This is an insult!" one noble growls, slamming his fist onto the table. His face is red with fury. "To think that someone would dare attack a noble''s entourage." An older noble leans back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "It''s not just an attack. It was a message. Someone is telling us that our power means nothing," he says, voice calm but cold. A third noble, younger and more impulsive, sneers. "Who else but the royal family would dare challenge us so openly? The guards were slaughtered without resistance! No common criminal could pull this off!" Murmurs of agreement ripple through the room. "But why would the royal family do such a thing?" another noble interjects, skepticism evident in his tone. "They have no reason to provoke us like this. If they wanted to challenge us, they''d do so openly, not through back-alley assassinations." "Reason or not, the fact remains," the older noble says, folding his hands together. "The king has been silent for too long, and we nobles are gaining power, while the royal family is declining. And now, the balance of power is shifting." Silence follows his words. The implications are clear. Outside the estate, the city guards move restlessly, their orders unclear. The common folk whisper among themselves, some fearful, others curious. Rumors spread like wildfire. Some say it was the work of an unknown assassin. Others claim that the missing slave was no ordinary purchase but someone of great importance. And beneath the surface, hidden in the cracks of Eldoria''s grandeur, another force watches from the shadows. Waiting. Planning. ---- For a while, Alix does nothing¡ªsimply sitting in his chamber, allowing the quiet to settle around him. No battles to fight, no urgent matters to handle. Just peace. But after a couple of hours, the stillness starts to feel unnatural. His mind, always sharp and restless, urges him to move. He could teleport directly to his workplace with a thought, but instead, he stands, stretching slightly before stepping out of his chamber. His boots echo against the polished black stone floors as he walks through the palace, taking in its beauty. He has lived here long enough to be familiar with every corridor, every towering archway, yet even now, the sight still holds a certain awe. Tall obsidian pillars line the halls, glowing faintly with golden runes that pulse like a heartbeat. Large windows of enchanted glass stretch high, revealing breathtaking views of Noctaris below. The floating platforms drifting in the distance, the cascading waterfalls that shimmer with ethereal energy¡ªhis city is alive, thriving. Several maids and attendants bow as he passes, their expressions respectful yet subtly curious. It''s rare for their king to take a leisurely stroll rather than moving with his usual sharp purpose. Draya, his personal maid, appears from a side hall, her hair glinting under the soft glow of the palace lights. She studies him for a moment before falling into step beside him. "You''re walking today, Your Majesty?" she asks, her tone neutral but carrying the faintest hint of amusement. Alix smirks. "What, do you think I''ve grown lazy?" "Not at all," Draya replies smoothly. "But you rarely take time to admire your own kingdom. It''s an unusual sight." "Hmm." He lets his gaze drift across the palace again, the sheer scale of it sinking in. "Maybe I should do it more often." gives a slight nod, but her sharp eyes never miss a detail. "Did something happen?" Alix chuckles. "Do I need a reason to walk?" "You? Yes." He huffs a quiet laugh but doesn''t deny it. Instead, he stops near a balcony, looking out over Noctaris as the evening lights shimmer across the city. Draya stands beside him in silence, her gaze also drifting over the breathtaking view of Noctaris. The city is alive with activity, its streets glowing with soft luminescence, the floating platforms moving seamlessly between towering spires. After a moment, she speaks. "Also, Your Majesty, while you were away, there''s an urgent report from the Shadows." Alix''s smirk fades slightly. "Then I''ll go and read it." Without another word, he turns away from the balcony and strides down the hall. His movements are unhurried, but there''s a weight behind them now. Draya follows a few steps behind. Soon, they arrive at his workspace. The chamber is dimly lit, the air carrying the faint scent of parchment and ink. His desk, large and made of dark obsidian, holds only a few neatly arranged items¡ªamong them, a sealed document marked with the insignia of the Shadows, his elite intelligence network. Alix settles into his chair, breaking the seal with a flick of his fingers. He unfolds the parchment and begins reading. The words are concise, but the weight of their meaning sinks deep. The Raltheon Kingdom is now in turmoil. The noble faction is preparing for rebellion. Alix''s expression remains unreadable, but his fingers tighten slightly on the parchment. He continues reading. The nobles are confident because they have backing. The Valgros Kingdom is supporting them from the shadows. A slow exhale leaves Alix''s lips. Valgros. One that has long sought to expand its influence. If they''re involved, this rebellion isn''t just some noble squabble¡ªit''s a calculated move to destabilize Raltheon and potentially absorb it into their growing empire. After some thought, Alix decides to call it a day. Tomorrow will be a long one. He stands, stretching briefly before heading toward his quarters. As he moves through the grand halls of his palace, his mind lingers on the unfolding events. War is brewing, and soon, he will have to decide how to play his hand. For now, though, he lets the tension ease from his shoulders. There''s no use in overthinking things tonight. Chapter 62: Preparing To Attack (part 1) The next day, Alix wastes no time. He teleports directly to Misorn City, appearing within Sorin''s workspace. The moment he materializes, Sorin''s face brightens. "Your Majesty, you''re here!" she exclaims, stepping forward. Alix nods, but his attention is momentarily caught by something else. Sorin''s attire. Today, she''s dressed in something far more fitted¡ªtight, sleek fabric that accentuates her figure, revealing just how well-toned she is. And, notably, her ample chest is far more noticeable now than when hidden beneath layers of cloth. For a brief moment, Alix simply observes, taking in the unexpected change. Sorin, realizing where his gaze lingers, feels heat rise to her cheeks. Why is he looking at me like that? Her thoughts spiral. Does he like what he sees? No¡ªwhat am I even thinking? The embarrassment only deepens as she overthinks the situation, her face turning a shade redder. She fidgets slightly before clearing her throat, forcing herself to focus. "U-Um... did you need something, Your Majesty?" Alix, smirking slightly at her reaction, leans back against the nearby table. "I''m here to discuss our next move," he states, his voice calm but firm. "But first¡ªare the four towns in the forest fully under our control now?" Sorin exhales, pushing aside her flustered thoughts. "Yes," she nods. "Some tried to resist, but we handled it. The towns are now under our rule." "Good," Alix says. His golden eyes sharpen. "Right now, the Raltheon Kingdom is in turmoil, and this is the perfect time to move." Sorin folds her arms, regaining her usual composed demeanor. "Agreed. With their nobles divided and their forces stretched thin, they won''t have the capacity to interfere with our expansion." "How many monsters have joined as soldiers?" Alix asks. Sorin hesitates only a moment before answering. "Out of the thirty thousand residents of the city right now, five thousand have joined." Alix clicks his tongue. "That''s quite small, considering they get Tier 1 skills or spells just by enlisting. What happened?" Sorin sighs, crossing her arms. "Most of these monsters became citizens because of the dungeon, not because they wanted to fight. And since we''re openly telling them that we plan to go against the three kingdoms in the future..." She gives him a pointed look. "Many of them don''t want to risk their lives for something they think is insane." Alix scoffs. "So in their minds, the three kingdoms aren''t like the monsters in the forest¡ªthey''re an impossible enemy to defeat." He leans back slightly, his expression unreadable. "Oh well. It doesn''t matter. Once we prove that we have a chance, they''ll come running to join us on their own." Sorin remains silent for a moment, her fingers tightening slightly against her arms. Her logical side tells her that Alix is serious, that he truly intends to take on the three kingdoms. And yet... a part of her is skeptical. She has infiltrated their cities before, back when she was still looking for her sister. Even then, she never dared to enter their capitals. Not even the weakest of the three, Raltheon. The sheer power concentrated within those cities¡ªtheir elite forces, their layers of security¡ªmade it a risk not worth taking. And now, Alix is saying that not only will they challenge the three kingdoms, but they''ll fight them head-on. "...Your Majesty," she starts carefully. "You really intend to fight them all?" Alix meets her gaze without hesitation. "Of course." His voice is steady, unwavering. "Not just fight. Win." Seeing the doubt flicker in Sorin''s eyes, Alix tilts his head slightly. "Sorin, you''ve never been to Noctaris City, have you?" Sorin blinks at the sudden question, then shakes her head. "No. But you did tell me you were going to make your kingdom called Erevaris, become know in the world. And your capital is... Noctaris City." Her amber eyes narrow slightly. Alix chuckles, his smirk widening. "So, those four didn''t even tell you about my city?" Sorin frowns. "Nyssara, Thurn, Veltha, and Groth are almost never here in Misorn. And even when they are, they''re always impatient¡ªlike they want to get things over with as fast as possible." Alix smirks. "That''s right. You''re the only one out of the five of you who''s actually working hard." His tone holds a teasing edge, but there''s a hint of genuine appreciation in his gaze. "I''ll make sure those four start visiting you more often. They owe you that much." Sorin waves a hand dismissively. "There''s no need. I can handle things here just fine." Alix crosses his arms. "Still, I should give you a reward." His golden eyes gleam. "How about a Tier 4 skill? Or perhaps some high-quality armor?" Sorin smiles softly, shaking her head. "I''m fine, Your Majesty. You already rescued my little sister and gave us a place where we don''t have to hide our real identities. That''s more than enough." Alix watches her for a moment, then scoffs lightly. "You say that, but I''ll still give you something." With a flick of his wrist, a sleek black armor set materializes in front of her. It''s fitted for an assassin¡ªlight, flexible, yet reinforced in all the right places. The dark fabric absorbs light, blending seamlessly into the shadows, and the enchanted plates are designed to be both durable and silent. Sorin''s eyes widen slightly as she takes in the craftsmanship. "You''ll need it," Alix says simply. "Especially for what''s coming next." She sighs but doesn''t argue. Instead, she carefully picks up the armor, feeling the weight of it in her hands. "Then... I''ll make sure to use it well." --- A Few Days Later The situation in Raltheon Kingdom continues to spiral out of control. The royal family is overwhelmed, their internal conflicts keeping them too occupied to even consider reclaiming Misorn City. Nearly a month has passed, and yet they have done nothing about the monsters occupying their territory. Seeing this opportunity, Alix wastes no time. Under his command, Sorin, Nyssara, Thurn, Veltha, and Groth lead an assault on a nearby human city. With Misorn secured, it''s time to expand their influence further. Chapter 63: Preparing To Attack (part 1) What makes this attack different from before is the strength of three of its leaders. Nyssara, Thurn, and Veltha have finally broken through to Tier 3. Each of them now stands at Level 300 or higher, and with that breakthrough, they''ve awakened new inherited abilities unique to their bloodlines. Unlike humans, who need to train or acquire skills manually, although monsters can also learn and study skill books and spells. However, some monsters naturally unlock abilities upon reaching higher tiers. This is why the trio is more eager than ever to fight¡ªthey want to test their newfound power. The army moves steadily through the dense forest, the ground trembling slightly under the weight of monstrous warriors. The scent of blood and steel lingers in the air, anticipation thick as they draw closer to the human city. Among them, Nyssara flexes her fingers, feeling the hardened texture of her skin. No¡ªnot skin anymore. Her Arachne body, which had always been durable, has now evolved further. The ore she consumed refined her very being, embedding her exoskeleton with minerals. Now, streaks of dark metal run along her limbs, and clusters of various ores protrude from her shoulders and arms like natural armor. She clenches her fist experimentally. It''s harder. Denser. And yet... I don''t feel heavier. Thurn walks beside her, his eyes scanning their surroundings. Unlike Nyssara, his evolution took a different path. He remained loyal to their tribe''s expertise¡ªpoison. His body is slimmer than Nyssara''s, his exoskeleton a deep obsidian with subtle purple veins running along his arms and legs. The venom within him has become more potent, his fangs sharper, his stingers secreting a toxin powerful enough to melt through steel. Thurn glances at Nyssara. "You look ridiculous." His voice is dry, unimpressed. Nyssara smirks, flexing her metallic fingers. "And you look weak." Thurn clicks his tongue. "Hmph. You think durability alone makes you superior?" He extends a hand, letting a drop of his venom fall onto a nearby rock. The stone sizzles, dissolving into a smoking puddle. "Let''s see if your ores can withstand this." Nyssara chuckles. "You''ll have to try harder than that." Veltha, the serpentine beastkin, watches the exchange with mild amusement. Her long tail coils and uncoils as she moves, her body more flexible and streamlined than before. While the Arachne siblings focused on hardening their bodies, Veltha''s evolution honed her speed and precision. She flicks out her forked tongue, sensing the change in the air. "You''re both wasting time," she says smoothly. "No matter how strong you''ve become, if you can''t land a hit, then you''re useless." Nyssara rolls her eyes. "And here comes the speech about speed." Veltha smirks. "You wouldn''t need that ore armor if you could dodge properly." Thurn exhales, annoyed. "If we get into another argument, Sorin will make us walk back to Misorn." That shuts them up. Groth, who has been silent the entire march, finally speaks. "Enough. The city is close." He said, and the dense mana surrounding his staff, only makes his presence more intimidating. "Focus." At his words, the air shifts. The playful tension between Nyssara, Thurn, and Veltha fades, replaced by a cold, predatory anticipation. Ahead of them, beyond the last stretch of trees, lies their target¡ªa walled human city, its guards completely unaware of the approaching storm. Nyssara grins, her metallic exoskeleton gleaming in the dim light. "Let''s see what these humans are made of." Veltha''s golden eyes narrow. "If they''re smart, they''ll surrender." Thurn bares his fangs. "If they''re not, they''ll die." Sorin steps forward, drawing her twin daggers. "No unnecessary destruction. We take the city, not raze it." Her sharp gaze sweeps over them. "Understood?" A chorus of low growls and murmured affirmations fills the air. Sorin steps up onto a fallen tree trunk, elevating herself above the gathered monster soldiers. Her amber eyes scan the army¡ªeight thousand strong. Their gazes, filled with hunger, uncertainty, and excitement, lock onto her. "Listen well," she calls out, her voice carrying through the silent forest. "When the battle starts, you will kill the enemy soldiers. But if civilians surrender, you do not kill them." Some of the newer recruits shift uncomfortably, murmuring among themselves. A few had joined solely for the thrill of slaughtering humans. Sorin''s eyes narrow, catching the hesitation. "We are not the monsters you used to be," she continues, her tone sharp. "You are now soldiers of the Erevaris Kingdom." That statement alone stuns them into silence. A kingdom? Many of them had joined this force for the Tier 1 skills they received upon enlistment. Others simply wanted to take revenge on humans. But none of them had known they were fighting under a kingdom¡ªone that none of them had ever heard of before. Sorin lets the weight of her words settle before speaking again. "I know most of you have questions. I know you don''t even know who our king is. But after this battle, you will be invited to his capital. And you will be rewarded personally by His Majesty." The murmuring grows louder. A kingdom strong enough to conquer Misorn? Strong enough to command them¡ªthe most feared monsters of the forest? It''s not just Sorin. The other four commanders standing with her¡ªNyssara, Thurn, Veltha, and Groth¡ªaren''t just ordinary warriors. They were once known as the Lords of the Forest, each ruling over their own domains. And now, they all follow a single ruler. Nyssara steps forward, crossing her arms. "You''ve all heard of us before," she says, her voice calm but commanding. "You know our strength. Ask yourselves¡ªwhat kind of being could make us follow him?" Silence. Even the most bloodthirsty monsters in the army hesitate at that thought. Thurn smirks, fangs glinting. "If you think Erevaris is just some backwater kingdom, you''re in for a surprise." Veltha flicks out her tongue, her golden eyes gleaming. "After today, you''ll understand why we serve." Groth remains silent, but his old body still feels powerful, and his staff glows red like lava. Sorin steps down from the tree trunk, her gaze sweeping over the gathered soldiers. "Fight well," she says simply. "Survive. And after this battle, you will see Erevaris for yourselves." The uncertainty in the air shifts. It doesn''t disappear completely¡ªbut now, there is something else. Anticipation. Then, without another word, the army moves forward. Chapter 64: Delon City The dimly lit chamber carries the scent of aged parchment and burning incense. City Lord Umbero sits at the head of a long wooden table, his fingers drumming impatiently against the polished surface. Across from him, Commander Beor stands with a rigid posture, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Beor," Umbero mutters, his voice low but edged with irritation. "Has His Majesty still done nothing about Misorn?" Beor exhales, shaking his head. "No, my lord. The capital is in chaos. The nobles are fighting the royal family, trying to weaken the royal family''s grip. They aren''t openly rebelling¡ªyet. But their schemes are keeping the king occupied." Umbero scoffs, leaning back in his chair. "Those useless nobles. What do they think they''ll gain by destabilizing the kingdom?" His grip tightens on the armrest. "Are they blind to the fact that the other two kingdoms will strike the moment we''re weak?" Beor''s expression remains grim. "I doubt they care. Each faction only sees their own benefit. The moment one noble gains an advantage, the others pull them back down like crabs in a bucket." Umbero lets out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his temple. "And here we are, waiting for orders from a king who has his hands full with a pack of vultures." He leans forward, his eyes narrowing. Umbero stays silent for a moment, his fingers tapping against the table once more. "And what of the enemy?" Beor''s jaw clenches. "Unknown. Whoever took Misorn, they haven''t made another move¡ªyet. But if they come for Delon..." He meets Umbero''s gaze. "We''re not prepared." A heavy silence falls over the room. A deep, resonating horn cuts through the quiet of the city. The sound is unmistakable¡ªa warning of an approaching army. The walls of Delon tremble, and the distant shouts of soldiers rushing to their posts echo through the streets. The door burst open as a young soldier, breathless and wide-eyed, stumbles inside. "M-My lord!" he pants, his face pale with urgency. "A massive army of monsters has appeared outside the city! And¡ª" He swallows hard. "Their leader is requesting an audience with you." Umbero''s eyes narrow. "Their leader?" The gates of Delon creak open, and Umbero steps onto the stone-paved road leading beyond the walls. Soldiers line the ramparts above, bows drawn, ballistae loaded, ready to strike at a moment''s notice. The moment he lays eyes on the enemy, his breath catches. The army before him is unlike anything he has ever seen. Thousands of monstrous warriors stand in disciplined formations, their weapons glinting under the midday sun. And at the front of them, mounted atop a massive, scaled beast, sits a figure clad in dark, high-quality armor. A monster... in armor? Umbero''s grip tightens on his reins as he studies her. She is beautiful¡ªinhumanly so. Long dark hair flows behind her, and her eyes gleam with an intelligence that monsters should not possess. This is no mindless beast. The woman''s piercing gaze locks onto him. Then, she speaks. "Are you the city lord?" Her voice is calm, yet carries the weight of command. Umbero straightens. "I am Lord Umbero of Delon. And you are?" "I am Sorin," she replies. "Commander of His Majesty''s army." His Majesty? Umbero frowns. "Who is this ''Majesty'' you serve?" Sorin doesn''t answer his question. Instead, she tilts her head slightly. "We are here to offer you a choice." Umbero scoffs. "A choice? What could monsters possibly offer me?" Sorin''s expression remains unreadable. "Surrender Delon and swear loyalty to the Erevaris Kingdom." She gestures toward the city behind him. "Your people will live, but they will be of lower status than the monsters. You will serve under us, or you will perish." A wave of murmurs spreads through the gathered soldiers behind Umbero. Fury and disbelief flicker across their faces. Umbero feels the blood rise to his head. His voice turns sharp. "You dare to look down on humans? On the kingdom of Raltheon?" He grits his teeth. "Do you truly think the kingdom will allow monsters to take human cities? The king will send an army to wipe you out. You and all the filth that follows you." Sorin meets his rage with cold indifference. "Then he should have protected Misorn." Silence. Umbero''s hands tighten into fists. She''s right. Misorn was abandoned. And if Delon falls... no one is coming to save them. But surrendering to monsters? Never. His soldiers share his fury. The very idea of kneeling to beasts disgusts them. A soldier beside him shouts, "We would rather die than serve monsters!" Another echoes, "Delon will never surrender!" Umbero said. "If you think you can take this city, try." Sorin exhales, almost as if she expected this answer. "Very well," she says softly. Sorin returns to the monsters, while Umbero heads back to the city. Sorin then raises a hand and drops it in a swift motion. "Attack." The roar of the monster army shakes the air as they surge forward. Within seconds, arrows rain down from Delon''s walls, streaking toward the advancing force. Shields are raised, some arrows bouncing harmlessly off thick monster hides, while others find flesh. The battlefield erupts into chaos. At the front, Groth steps forward. The old salamander stands tall despite his hunched frame, his molten eyes gleaming with amusement as he watches the humans scramble. His crimson staff pulses with energy, the fire within him begging to be unleashed. "Let''s start with something small," he muses. Raising his staff, he chants, and a fiery glyph flares to life beneath his feet. "Blazing Smite." A torrent of flames shoots from the staff, crashing into the city gate. The wood blackens, cracks forming along its surface, but it does not break. A faint golden shimmer pulses around it¡ªan enchantment. Groth said. "Not bad. But let''s see how you handle this." His staff glows brighter as he channels his mana. The air around him distorts from the heat, and the ground beneath his feet scorches. His deep, gravelly voice carries through the battlefield as he chants: "Infernal Surge." Chapter 65: The Fall Of Delon City (part 1) A deafening roar erupts as a concentrated wave of molten fire surges forward in a straight line, consuming everything in its path. The intense heat warps the air, turning the ground into molten slag as it races toward the gates. The moment it strikes, the enchantment on the gate flares brilliantly, struggling to hold. Runes etched into the wood glow fiercely, fighting against the infernal flames. But Groth''s attack is not a simple blaze¡ªit is concentrated destruction. Cracks snake across the barrier as the magic struggles against the relentless fire. Then¡ª A resounding CRACK. The enchantment shatters, and the full force of the infernal wave crashes into the weakened wood. The gate explodes inward, splintering into a hail of burning debris. Soldiers stationed near it scream as they are engulfed in flames, their armor melting into their flesh before they can even react. Groth exhales slowly, watching the flames consume the entrance. "Now that," he mutters, "is how you break a door." Behind him, Nyssara, Thurn, and Veltha step forward, eyes gleaming. Nyssara grins, flexing her metallic fingers. "Looks like we''re going in." Thurn licks his fangs, his venom dripping onto the scorched ground. "Time to hunt." Veltha flicks her tail. "Let''s see if they can even put up a fight." From above the walls, the human soldiers, stunned by the sudden breach, struggle to form a defensive line. Umbero watches in horror as the once-impenetrable gate collapses in a wave of molten destruction. The city''s greatest defense¡ªshattered in seconds. The soldiers around him, who had been standing tall with unwavering confidence, now stare in shock and fear. How the hell do these monsters have a Tier 3 mage? His mind races. He had heard the rumors of the five monster lords of the forest, but seeing their power firsthand is something else entirely. They weren''t just strong¡ªthey were terrifying. Before he can issue new orders, the first wave of monsters surges through the burning remains of the gate. "Hold the line!" Beor roars, drawing his sword. "Stop them before they enter the city!" But it''s already too late. Nyssara is the first to enter the breach, her massive Arachne form skittering over the burning rubble with unnatural speed. The moment she crosses into the city, she moves like a predator, her metal-infused limbs cutting through the smoke like blades. A squad of human spearmen rushes toward her, their formation tight, their expressions hardened with resolve. "Push her back!" their captain shouts. "Don''t let the monsters through!" The human soldiers brace themselves, their spears angled forward in a deadly hedge. Their movements are disciplined, their formation practiced. They know that if they falter, the monsters will pour through and the city will fall. Nyssara doesn''t even slow down. The first spear thrusts toward her chest, its tip glowing with enchantment. A powerful strike¡ªagainst any normal opponent, it would be lethal. But Nyssara isn''t normal. She doesn''t dodge. She doesn''t even attempt to block. The spearhead slams into her metallic exoskeleton with a sharp clang¡ªand stops dead. The soldier who thrusts it blinks in horror. His weapon doesn''t even scratch her. Then Nyssara moves. With a flick of her wrist, her clawed hand swipes across the soldier''s chest. The force alone sends him flying backward, armor crumpling inward like tin foil. He slams into another soldier behind him, sending both to the ground in a heap of tangled limbs. The formation breaks. The spearmen hesitate, fear creeping into their disciplined ranks. A mistake. Nyssara lunges, her lower spider legs slamming into the ground with thunderous force. She barrels forward, her claws cutting through spears like twigs. Soldiers try to hold her back, but they might as well be trying to stop a charging war beast. One soldier swings a sword at her neck. She lets him. The blade meets her exoskeleton¡ªand snaps in half. The soldier stares at his broken weapon, disbelieving. Nyssara''s clawed hand wraps around his throat. With a casual flex of her fingers, she crushes his windpipe and tosses him aside. The rest of the spearmen panic. They turn to run. Cowards. Nyssara grins, rearing up on her hind legs. "Running already?" she taunts, her voice dripping with amusement. A sudden whoosh cuts through the air. A volley of enchanted arrows streaks toward her from the rooftops. The archers, stationed above, unleash a relentless hail, their projectiles glowing with magic. Nyssara barely reacts. The arrows strike her exoskeleton with sharp pings¡ªbut they fail to penetrate. Some glance off, ricocheting wildly. Others lodge into the ore-infused plates, unable to dig deeper. She looks up at the archers, unimpressed. "Are you tickling me?" Then she moves. With a burst of speed unnatural for her size, she leaps¡ªstraight toward the rooftop. The archers barely have time to react before she lands among them, the roof cracking beneath her weight. Her clawed hands lash out, grabbing the nearest soldier. She hurls him from the rooftop, his scream cut short as he crashes into the stone street below. Chaos erupts on the rooftop. The archers scramble to reposition, their bows useless in close quarters. One brave soldier draws a dagger, lunging at Nyssara''s neck. She lets him. The blade skids uselessly against her metallic exoskeleton. Nyssara sighs. "Humans never learn." Her arm swings in a blur, backhanding the archer so hard that his body sails off the rooftop, tumbling lifelessly to the ground below. Back on the streets, Thurn slithers forward, his movement eerily silent. Unlike Nyssara, he doesn''t charge in¡ªhe hunts. His obsidian exoskeleton glistens under the fire-lit sky, the faint purple veins running through it pulsing with venom. The humans barely notice him until it''s too late. A group of sword-wielding soldiers rounds a corner, their attention locked on the raging battle ahead. They don''t see Thurn perched on the crumbling remains of a building''s facade, his many legs clinging to the surface like a predator waiting for the perfect moment. Then he drops. A scream pierces the air as he lands in the center of their formation, his bladed legs slicing through two soldiers instantly. Chapter 66: The Fall Of Delon City (part 2) "Ambush!" one of them yells, turning to strike. Thurn hisses, his fangs flashing. His tail whips forward, striking the soldier''s arm before he can swing. A thin cut¡ªbarely noticeable. The man frowns. "That barely¡ª" Then his body convulses. His skin blackens, veins bulging as Thurn''s venom takes hold. Within seconds, he collapses, foaming at the mouth. Thurn chuckles. "Humans really do have weak constitutions." The remaining soldiers hesitate, their fear palpable. Veltha takes advantage. With unnatural speed, the serpentine warrior darts into their ranks. Her flexible body twists between them like flowing water, avoiding their clumsy sword strikes with ease. A soldier swings his greatsword at her head. Veltha ducks, her body bending impossibly low, her eyes flashing with amusement. "Too slow." Her tail whips forward, striking the man''s legs out from under him. As he falls, she coils around his neck in an instant. The sickening crack of his spine snapping echoes through the streets. The others try to retreat, but Veltha doesn''t let them. She slithers forward, her movements blurring with terrifying speed. A dagger flashes in her hand, and blood sprays as she carves through armor and flesh alike. By the time she stops, five bodies lie at her feet. Umbero watches the massacre unfold, his heart pounding. These monsters¡ªthese lords of the forest¡ªwere untouchable. Their power was beyond anything he had ever faced. He grips his sword tightly. "Damn it all..." Delon is falling. And no one is coming to save them. Beor grits his teeth, his knuckles white as he grips his sword. The battlefield is drenched in chaos, bodies strewn across the streets, smoke curling into the sky. The monstrous invaders move through his soldiers like an unstoppable tide, their overwhelming power reducing the city''s defenders to nothing more than prey. He turns to Umbero, his voice grim. "My lord, flee the city. We will try to stop them." Umbero doesn''t argue. He doesn''t waste time with empty words about honor or duty. He knows the truth¡ªthis city is already lost. His family is waiting for him beyond the walls, having fled the moment the battle began. He clenches his jaw, nodding once. "May the gods watch over you, Beor," he says, before turning on his heel and disappearing into the shadows of the city. Beor exhales slowly, steeling himself. He is the last line of defense, the only warrior in Delon strong enough to stand against these creatures. He is Tier 3, just like them¡ªbut he is only one, and they are four. And, to make matters worse, they''re arguing. Nyssara folds her arms, her many legs tapping impatiently against the stone. "I should fight him," she declares. "I''ve barely used my new skills. Those soldiers didn''t even last five seconds." Thurn hisses, his fangs glinting. "You''re not the only one who wants to test their abilities, Nyssara. Besides, I like fighting warriors, not weaklings." Veltha smirks, coiling her long serpentine body as she watches Beor. "You''re both too reckless. If anyone should fight him, it''s me. I''ll make it quick and efficient." Beor tightens his grip on his weapon. "Are you monsters seriously debating who gets to kill me?" Nyssara turns to him, grinning. "Yes, we are. We don''t get many fights worth our time." Beor exhales sharply. "Enough of this nonsense." He lowers his stance, his aura flaring as he readies himself. "Come at me, all of you. Let''s end this." The three exchange glances. Thurn chuckles. "Cocky, aren''t you?" Veltha''s smirk widens. "Bold. I like him." Nyssara rolls her shoulders. "Fine. Let''s not waste time, then." And then, they move. Nyssara is the first to attack. She lunges forward, her metallic claws slicing through the air. Beor barely manages to parry, his blade meeting her strike with a resounding clang. The force alone sends him sliding backward, his boots scraping against the bloodied cobblestone. Beor grits his teeth as the impact rattles his arms. She''s strong¡ªfar stronger than any monster he''s ever faced. But he doesn''t falter. He channels his mana, activating Titan''s Guard, a Tier 2 defensive skill. His muscles tense, his body hardening as a faint golden glow coats his form. Nyssara''s next strike comes fast, her claws a blur. Beor plants his feet and meets it head-on. The impact sends a shockwave through the street, dust and debris kicking up around them. But this time, he doesn''t budge. Nyssara narrows her eyes. "Oh? You can take a hit." Beor smirks. "I''m not done." With a burst of speed, he counters with Iron Fang Slash, his sword glowing as he swings at her exposed side. Nyssara doesn''t dodge. Instead, she shifts, letting her ore-infused exoskeleton take the brunt of the attack. Sparks fly as the blade scrapes against her metallic body, failing to cut through. Beor''s eyes widen. ''Damn it. I didn''t even leave a mark.'' "Nice try," Nyssara taunts, her fangs bared. Before he can react, Thurn moves. He strikes from the side, his obsidian-clad legs lashing out in a flurry of sharp jabs. Beor barely raises his blade in time, deflecting the first two strikes, but the third grazes his shoulder. A thin line of blood appears, and he feels a slight burning sensation spread from the wound. "Venom," Beor growls. Thurn chuckles. Beor grits his teeth, forcibly suppressing the pain with sheer will. He can''t afford to slow down. With a quick step, he twists, slamming his shield into Thurn''s side with all his might. The impact sends Thurn skidding across the street, his armored hide scraping against stone. "Not bad." Beor turns, just in time to see Veltha''s form flicker. Damn it! Where¡ª A sharp pain erupts in his side. Veltha materializes behind him, her dagger sinking shallowly into his armor. Beor reacts instantly, swinging his elbow back. He stumbles, but he doesn''t fall. "Impressive," Veltha purrs. "But you''re already slowing down." Beor exhales, feeling his body growing heavier. The venom is spreading. If he doesn''t act fast, he''ll be dead in minutes. He grips his sword tighter. ''No choice. I have to use it.'' Chapter 67: The Fall Of Delon City (part 3) Mana surges through him as he activates his Tier 3 skill¡ªIndomitable Charge. A golden aura erupts around him, the air itself trembling under the force of his will. His veins burn with renewed strength as his body ignores exhaustion, pain, and even the venom coursing through him. Then, he moves. The ground cracks beneath him as he surges forward, his sword gleaming with raw power. He slams into Veltha first, his blade cleaving through the air with enough force to split stone. She barely manages to twist away, but the sheer pressure of his strike sends her flying into a crumbling wall. Nyssara moves to intercept, her claws ready¡ªbut Beor doesn''t stop. His shield slams into her midsection, sending her skidding backward. He follows up with a brutal downward slash, forcing her to block with both arms. The impact sends another shockwave through the battlefield, and for the first time, Nyssara stumbles. Thurn darts in, aiming for Beor''s exposed flank. But Beor anticipates it. He pivots, catching Thurn''s strike with his shield before ramming the edge into the serpent''s face. Thurn recoils, hissing. Beor breathes heavily, his body burning from exertion. This is it. My last burst of strength. Nyssara wipes a thin trickle of blood from her lips, looking at it with mild amusement. "Well," she says, rolling her shoulders. "That was fun." Thurn chuckles, rubbing his jaw. "Haven''t been hit like that in a while." Veltha groans, pulling herself from the rubble. "He''s tougher than he looks." Beor grips his sword, his vision blurring. His time is running out. Beor staggers, his breath ragged. His limbs feel like lead, the venom dulling his movements, his strength ebbing away with each second. His vision wavers, but he refuses to fall¡ªnot yet. He tightens his grip on his sword, forcing his body to obey. ''If I''m going down, I''m taking at least one of them with me.'' But the three monsters aren''t even breathing heavily. They stand before him, unharmed, watching him struggle with the casual amusement of predators toying with their prey. Nyssara tilts her head. "Still standing? I''ll give you credit for that." Beor exhales sharply, shifting his stance. "You think this is over?" Thurn chuckles. "No. But you do." Beor growls and lunges forward, pouring the last of his strength into a final, desperate swing at Nyssara. His blade sings through the air¡ª But she''s faster. She sidesteps effortlessly, her claws darting out in the same motion. A flash of silver, a streak of red¡ªBeor''s sword arm is severed at the elbow. Pain erupts through his body, but he doesn''t even have time to scream. Veltha''s tail coils around his legs and yanks, sending him crashing onto his back. Before he can move, Thurn''s foot slams onto his chest, pinning him in place. Beor gasps, blood bubbling at his lips. His vision blurs further. His strength... gone. Nyssara crouches beside him, watching with mild curiosity. "Too bad," she murmurs. "If I had fought you alone, it would''ve been a good match." Beor tries to speak, but nothing comes. The last thing he sees is her smirking face, before darkness takes him. Thurn clicks his tongue. "That took longer than I expected." Veltha sighs, wiping a streak of blood from her blade. "You two were playing around." Nyssara shrugs. "Maybe. But at least he made it interesting." She rises, glancing down the ruined street. Smoke still fills the air, and the city of Delon is nothing but a dying ember. Suspended in the air above the city, Alix and Varkas watch the battle unfold, their figures completely hidden by the veil of invisibility. From this height, Delon looks like a dying beast¡ªits streets choked with smoke, its defenders broken, its once-proud walls scarred by battle. Alix''s gaze lingers on Nyssara, Thurn, and Veltha as they stand over Beor''s lifeless body. They hadn''t even used their Tier 3 skills. It wasn''t arrogance¡ªit was restraint. Against a lone opponent, they hadn''t even needed to go all out. Varkas chuckles beside him, his arms crossed as he observes the scene. "Your Majesty, these rookies have a lot of potential." His golden eyes gleam with rare approval. "If they keep this up, they might even surpass me and reach level 600." Alix nods. "They''re growing fast. I can see it in the way they move, the way they fight. That wasn''t just strength¡ªit was control. They could''ve ended him immediately, but they didn''t. They tested themselves, refined their combat instincts. That kind of discipline? It''s the mark of true warriors." The last remnants of Delon''s soldiers finally drop their weapons. Some fall to their knees, their faces blank with exhaustion and terror. Others stand frozen, their hands raised in surrender, their armor splattered with the blood of fallen comrades. And just like that, the battle is over. Sorin, standing atop the rubble of a collapsed building, surveys the battlefield with cold, golden eyes. She takes a deep breath, then raises her voice. "Enough! Stop!" The bloodthirsty monsters¡ªhalt mid-motion. Some are still hacking down retreating soldiers, others are tearing into the bodies of the fallen, their hunger for violence not yet sated. But Sorin''s words cut through the chaos like a blade, and they obey without hesitation. She steps forward, her gaze sweeping over them. "Anyone who ignores my orders¡ª" her voice drops, filled with quiet menace, "¡ªdies by my hands." A heavy silence settles. The monsters that moments ago slaughtered without restraint now stand still, awaiting her command. Sorin crosses her arms. "I saw some of you kill civilians hiding in the ruins." Her eyes narrow, a sharp edge to her voice. "I let it slide this time. But if I see it again, your heads will be rolling on the floor." The warning is clear. No one dares to argue. Some shift uncomfortably, others lower their heads in acknowledgment. Satisfied, Sorin exhales and turns to the defeated soldiers. "You''re prisoners now. Don''t make me regret sparing you." The battle for Delon has ended. But Sorin makes sure they all know¡ªher authority is absolute. She doesn''t want to make Alix disappointed. Chapter 68: The Fall Of Delon City (part 4) With the city secured, Sorin wastes no time. She leads her forces toward the city lord''s mansion, the last stronghold of authority in Delon. The grand structure stands at the heart of the ruined city, its once-pristine white stone now stained with soot and blood. The gates hang open, abandoned. Whatever resistance was stationed here has already scattered or surrendered. But as Sorin steps inside, her sharp eyes scan the dimly lit hall¡ªand immediately, she freezes. Alix is already there. He stands in the center of the grand chamber, his posture relaxed yet commanding. At his side looms a massive lycanthrope, eyes gleaming with predatory sharpness. Sorin stops in her tracks, her eyes flickering with momentary surprise before she quickly composes herself. She places a fist over her heart and bows slightly. "Your Majesty, you''re here." Alix turns to her, a faint smirk playing at his lips. "I am," he says, his voice calm yet firm. "And I''m satisfied with your work." Sorin straightens, pride flashing in her eyes for a brief moment before she speaks again. "We''ve secured the city. The remaining forces have surrendered, and order is being established." Alix nods, glancing toward the open doors behind her. "Good. I expected nothing less." His gaze sharpens as he looks at her. "Any issues?" She hesitates for half a second before shaking her head. "No. There were... a few who stepped out of line, but I handled it." Alix studies her for a moment, then gives a slight nod. "That''s what I like to hear." He gestures toward the lycanthrope beside him. "This is general Varkas. He''ll assist in securing the city moving forward from now on." Sorin immediately shifts her attention to Varkas, her expression turning serious. She places a fist over her heart again and bows respectfully. "General Varkas," she greets him firmly. Though she can''t sense any aura from him, she knows exactly what that means. Only those who have surpassed Tier 5¡ªlevel 500 and beyond¡ªcan completely suppress their presence. And she''s only just become Tier 4, barely scratching level 400. The sheer gap in strength is almost unimaginable. If Tier 4 has made her feel this powerful, then what kind of force does Tier 5 wield? Varkas, arms still crossed, merely looks at her with a neutral expression. "You''re disciplined. Good." His deep voice carries a weight to it, as if he''s already assessing her worth. Before Sorin can respond, Alix speaks. "Varkas, go and help them settle the city first," he instructs. "Calak should be arriving any moment now¡ªhe''ll be the one to govern Delon." Sorin frowns slightly, unfamiliar with the name. Alix glances at her. "Calak is one of my soldiers," he explains. "He was the first to manage one of our captured towns. We don''t have enough manpower right now, but he already has experience. He should be fine." "As for me," Alix continues, turning toward a nearby hallway, "I''m going to see how much gold they have left." As Alix walks through the halls of the city lord''s mansion, he notices something strange¡ªgold coins scattered across the floor. They glimmer under the dim torchlight, some piled in corners, others abandoned near overturned furniture. He scoffs. "These guys must''ve tried to take as much as they could," he mutters, shaking his head. "Looks like they ran out of time." The deeper he goes, the more obvious it becomes. Some chests are left half-open, sacks of gold spilled carelessly. Whoever was in charge of the treasury must have been in a mad rush to escape, but either got caught in the chaos or simply didn''t have enough hands to carry it all. Finally, he arrives at the treasury. The heavy doors are wide open, a clear sign that the looting was either rushed or unfinished. Inside, the room is a mess¡ªshelves knocked over, weapons and armor scattered across the floor. There are a few enchanted swords and ornate breastplates, likely valuable to ordinary soldiers. But to Alix? He barely glances at them. Compared to the items in his arsenal, these are nothing but scraps. Even his lowest-grade equipment outclasses these relics. "All are garbage," he mutters, stepping past them. His focus is on the gold. "But all these gold coins are like an energizer to me," he smirks. Stacks of coins, small chests filled to the brim, pouches carelessly left on the tables¡ªdespite the attempted looting, there''s still a massive amount left behind. Without hesitation, he raises his palm. A faint hum fills the air. Then, like a vacuum, the gold surges toward him. The coins lift off the ground, streaming through the air in a dazzling cascade. Chests rattle as their contents spill forth, swirling toward his open palm before vanishing into thin air¡ªabsorbed directly into his system. In mere moments, the gold coins in the treasury are gone. A notification flashes across his transparent screen. [Gold: +1,742,630] Alix''s eyes flick to his balance. His total gold skyrockets past 1,700,000. He exhales, satisfied. "Not bad." Looking around, only the weapons and armor remain. Alix crosses his arms, unimpressed. "Might as well reward these to the soldiers," he mutters. He turns and leaves the treasury, making his way back outside. By the time he arrives, Sorin, Calak, and Varkas are already waiting for him. Calak, a hobgoblin with sharp features and a disciplined posture, immediately steps forward. His eyes burn with gratitude as he places a fist over his heart. "Thank you, Your Majesty, for thinking so highly of me," he says, his voice steady but filled with emotion. Alix studies him for a moment before nodding. "With your performance in managing that town, I''m confident you can handle this city just as well," he says. "You are no longer just an ordinary soldier of my kingdom." The weight of those words crashes over Calak. His breathing hitches, his fingers twitch slightly as if resisting the urge to knowtow. Just being remembered¡ªjust having Alix acknowledge him¡ªfills him with overwhelming joy. Chapter 69: Second Tier 5 Subordinate His eyes shine with something close to reverence, almost fanatical. Alix sighs internally. ''All my subordinates are just too extreme in revering me.'' Shaking his head, he raises a hand. A pouch appears in his palm, brimming with wealth. With a flick of his wrist, it lands in Calak''s grasp. "Here''s two hundred thousand gold coins," Alix says. "Use it to stabilize the city." Calak clutches the pouch like it''s the most precious thing in the world. His voice trembles slightly. "I will not disappoint you, Your Majesty!" Before leaving, Alix glances at Sorin. "Since I promised them that they could visit me, lead them tomorrow," he says. "The four know where Noctaris City is." Sorin places a fist over her heart and bows slightly. "As you wish, Your Majesty." Alix nods in approval before adding, "Also, there''s a lot of weapons and armor in the treasury. Use them to reward the soldiers." Sorin''s eyes flicker with understanding. "I''ll make sure they''re distributed properly," she responds. Satisfied, Alix exchanges a glance with Varkas. With a faint shimmer, their forms blur and vanish as they activate invisibility. Then, without a sound, they ascend into the sky disappearing. ---- Inside the resurrection chamber, a faint glow pulses from the ancient runes carved into the resurrection altar. The air hums with power, a dense, almost suffocating energy filling the chamber as Alix stands before the resurrection altar. His gaze locks onto the name displayed on his transparent screen. [Vaelith the Phantom Stalker ¨C Level 532] Resurrection Cost: 1,050,000 Gold A wraith-like assassin, Vaelith was a terror on the battlefield. His Shadowmeld ability allowed him to phase between the physical and ethereal realms, making him nearly impossible to track. He was the perfect killer¡ªsilent, precise, merciless. Alix exhales, pressing his hand against the altar. "[Resurrect.]" The moment the word leaves his lips, a surge of dark energy explodes from the runes, spiraling upward like a vortex. The chamber trembles slightly as the sheer power of the resurrection process unfolds. Wisps of black mist seep from the altar, coiling in the air before condensing into a humanoid form. Slowly, a figure emerges from the darkness. Vaelith. His form is draped in a tattered cloak of shifting shadows, his presence barely tangible, as if reality itself struggles to keep hold of him. His face remains obscured beneath a hood, revealing only faint traces of spectral blue eyes glowing beneath the darkness. For a long moment, he remains motionless. Then, he takes a slow step forward. "Your Majesty." His voice is barely more than a whisper, yet it carries an eerie weight, like a blade gliding through the night. Vaelith drops to one knee, head bowed in absolute submission. Alix watches him with a satisfied nod. "Welcome back." Vaelith lifts his head slightly. "I am yours to command," he intones, his voice unwavering. Alix crosses his arms, his gaze steady as he looks down at Vaelith. "Good. Right now, the Shadows don''t have a leader. That''s why I revived you." Vaelith nods, his glowing eyes narrowing with determination. "You can count on me, Your Majesty." A moment of silence lingers before he finally asks, "May I know, how many of the shadows are left?" Alix exhales. "Right now, it''s just five. And they''re all at the lowest rank." He pauses before adding, "But don''t worry¡ªI''ll revive more with the gold I have left." Vaelith bows his head slightly. "Thank you, Your Majesty." As Alix channels his remaining gold into reviving the fallen Shadows, he glances at Vaelith. "Tell me what happened. Why are there only five left?" Vaelith''s expression darkens slightly beneath his hood. His voice is calm, but there''s a sharp edge to it, like a blade that has seen too much battle. "Your Majesty, when you suddenly lost consciousness and never woke up... Lord Kieran rallied all of the Shadows and led an assault on the enemy''s capital city." Alix''s eyes flicker with recognition. Kieran. One of the Five Lords¡ªthe strongest of his subordinates. Vaelith continues. "The two enemy king was locked in battle with Lord Kaelthar at the time. When we attacked, one had no choice but to abandon the fight and return to defend his capital." Alix scoffs. "Hah. So Kieran forced one back. Smart." Vaelith nods. "Yes. But in the end... we were all killed." Alix''s expression turns unreadable. "By that bastard?" "Yes, Your Majesty," Vaelith confirms. "He was so furious that he used a one-time-use divine item to wipe us all out." Alix pauses, then suddenly laughs. "Pfft. That''s actually great news." Alix smirks. "Do you know how expensive those divine items are? The fact that he had to use one means you all did a damn good job before going down." Vaelith''s lips twitch slightly. "We took many of his subordinates with us. Enough that he couldn''t risk fighting us normally." Alix nods in approval. "Good. That alone makes me feel better." He focused back on the altar. With a deep breath, Alix continues the resurrection process. The chamber glows ominously as dark energy swirls around him, forming into shadowy figures one after another. One by one, the members of the Shadows return. Their forms emerge from the abyss, flickering into existence as they kneel before Alix. When the final pulse of magic fades, Alix takes a moment to assess his resurrected assassins. Twenty in total. One stands out immediately¡ªa figure clad in dark leathers, exuding a sharp, predatory aura. He''s the strongest among them, somewhere in the level 400 range. The rest vary between level 200 and 300. Not bad. Vaelith steps forward, his gaze scanning the group before settling on the strongest one. "Kain," he says, voice unreadable. The assassin, Torik, looks up. His eyes gleam under his hood. "Lord Vaelith," he acknowledges before turning his attention to Alix. "Your Majesty," he says, bowing low. "It is an honor to serve you once more." Alix watches them in silence for a moment before speaking. "You''ve all been brought back for a reason," he says, his voice calm but firm. "The Shadows have fallen far from what they once were. That changes today." The assassins remain kneeling, their unwavering attention on him. Chapter 70: Five Huge Floating island "I won''t lie¡ªthe shadow has fallen," Alix continues. "But that will only be temporary. In time, I will restore the Shadows to their former glory." A ripple of quiet determination passes through the group. "Vaelith has the highest ranking right now," Alix states. "So follow his orders as you would mine." Torik nods immediately. "Understood." Vaelith steps forward, arms crossed. "Our first priority is reestablishing our network. We need eyes and ears everywhere." Alix watches as the newly resurrected Shadows absorb his words. They may have been brought back to life, but their sharp instincts remain. The air around them brims with silent resolve. "Before you go," Alix says, his tone shifting slightly, "there''s something you all need to understand." The assassins remain kneeling, their gazes locked onto him, waiting. "This world... is not the one you remember." A flicker of confusion passes through some of them, but no one dares to interrupt. Alix continues. "It may look similar. It may feel familiar. But everything has changed. The land, the people, the power structures¡ªnothing is exactly as it was before." His golden eyes sweep over them. "So don''t assume old alliances still hold. Don''t assume your enemies are the same. Adapt, or you''ll die again." Silence follows his words. Then, Vaelith speaks, his voice as smooth as ever. "Understood, Your Majesty. We will move with caution." The other assassins nod, their expressions unreadable beneath their hoods. None of them question him, but Alix can tell they''re piecing things together in their minds, already calculating their next steps. He exhales lightly, his gaze shifting to Vaelith. "The other Shadow members will fill you in on what''s going on. There''s a lot to cover, and I don''t have time to explain everything myself." Vaelith inclines his head. "Understood. I''ll gather information from them." Alix glances at the group. "Get up." Vaelith studies them briefly before turning back to Alix. "Your Majesty, is there anything else you wish to command before we begin our work?" Alix shakes his head. "For now, focus on reestablishing yourselves. Build the network from the ground up, and don''t attract too much attention yet." His eyes narrow slightly. "We still don''t know the full extent of the threats out there." Vaelith places a fist over his chest and bows slightly. "As you wish." Without another word, the Shadows vanish, melting into the darkness as if they were never there. Alix watches the last traces of shadow dissipate before glancing at his transparent screen. His eyes land on his remaining gold count. [Gold: 2,357] A long sigh escapes him. "I''m back to being poor again," he mutters. With that, he strides out of the resurrection chamber, the doors sealing shut behind him. His footsteps echo lightly against the polished floors as he walks through the dimly lit corridors of his palace. By the time he reaches the grand hallway, the sky outside has deepened into hues of violet and indigo. The first stars begin to flicker to life, but Alix''s attention is drawn elsewhere. High above the land, five massive floating islands now hover in plain sight. His golden eyes narrow slightly. "They''re fully visible now," he murmurs. "Is that the territory of the Five Marshal, Your Majesty?" Alix doesn''t even flinch at the voice beside him. He already knows who it is. Turning slightly, he finds Draya standing next to him, gazing up at the sky with her usual calm expression. He has no idea when she arrived, but at this point, he''s used to her appearing out of nowhere. Hearing her words, a chuckle escapes him. "Now you''re calling them Marshal?" Draya pouts slightly, crossing her arms. "It''s because Your Majesty keeps calling them Lords that I almost forgot their official title." Alix smirks. "Haha, fair enough." He looks back at the floating islands. "Since no one is maintaining their territories, they''ve started coming out." Draya tilts her head. "I see. So they don''t normally appear like this?" Alix shakes his head. "No. The territories of the five Marshal are special. They exist in a different realm, one they can control it like a warship. But right now, they''re empty... so they''re starting to slip out of that real." Draya''s eyes widen slightly. "Then... if left alone, could they fall?" Alix hums in thought. "Not quite. They''re anchored by powerful magic." Alix folds his arms as he studies the massive floating fortresses. Just like the smaller floating islands that hover above the city, these don''t really have any reason to float. They just do. Back in the game, it was just how things worked¡ªno explanation needed. And now, even in this world, the same logic applies. "They are quite a view to look at, Your Majesty," Draya says, her gaze lingering on the illuminated structures above. Alix nods. "You''re right." The sight of the floating fortresses doesn''t bother him. He knows only the Five Marshal can truly control them, and with those seats currently empty, the islands have simply drifted into the open. It doesn''t change anything for him. Compared to the vastness of his capital city, they''re just another part of the skyline. In a way, they even add to the city''s grandeur. ---- The Next Day Sorin takes the lead, marching at the front of the convoy as they travel toward the capital. The soldiers under her command move in disciplined formation, but the real energy comes from the three at her side¡ªNyssara, Thurn, and Veltha. The three have been nonstop in their excitement, their voices carrying over the ranks as they eagerly recount their first impressions of the capital. "It''s enormous," Nyssara exclaims, gesturing dramatically. "You could walk from sunrise to sunset and still not see everything!" "And the districts!" Thurn adds. "Each one is practically a city of its own. Just crossing from one to another takes hours!" Veltha, not one to be left out, grins. "And the floating islands! Massive things just hovering over the city. The most powerful subordinates of His Majesty live there." Chapter 71: Arrival Their enthusiasm is contagious. The soldiers, despite their discipline, can''t help but murmur among themselves. Some exchange glances, others listen in awe. Even Sorin, who usually keeps her thoughts to herself, finds herself intrigued. The way these three describe it makes it seem almost mythical. Then comes the part that confuses everyone. "But you know what''s strange?" Nyssara says, lowering her voice slightly, as if sharing a secret. "The city''s empty." The soldiers blink, startled. Even Sorin frowns. "Empty?" Thurn nods. "Apart from us and our subordinates and some soldiers, there''s no one else." Veltha crosses his arms. "We don''t know why, but it was eerie. A city that grand, that huge, should be overflowing with people. And yet, it was quiet. Too quiet." A hush falls over the marching soldiers. The ones who had been excited before now exchange uncertain glances. Some had imagined bustling streets, towering spires filled with people. The idea of an empty, silent capital feels... unnatural. After hours of travel, the towering walls of the capital finally come into view. The reaction is immediate. The sheer size of the walls alone¡ªstretching high into the sky like mountains of stone¡ªleaves the soldiers in stunned silence. Even the most disciplined among them can''t help but crane their necks, their jaws slack in disbelief. "This... this isn''t a wall," one of the soldiers murmurs under his breath. "This is a damn mountain." Nyssara, Thurn, and Veltha, who had been hyping up the city the entire way, now watch with smug satisfaction as the others finally see it for themselves. "Told you," Nyssara says, grinning. "It''s ridiculous," Thurn mutters. "How do you even build something this massive?" Veltha chuckles. "No idea, but this is just the start. Wait till you see the inside." Sorin, walking ahead, keeps her expression composed, but even she has to admit¡ªseeing it up close is something else. Then, as they approach the entrance, another realization dawns on the soldiers. The guards standing at the gate¡ªunassuming compared to the monstrous walls behind them¡ªare all Tier 2. A ripple of shock spreads through the group. "Wait, Tier 2?" one of the monster soldiers mutters in disbelief. "Just for guarding a gate?" "In this forest, someone that strong could carve out their own territory," another whispers. The soldiers exchange glances, suddenly feeling much smaller than before. Then, the small gate begin to open. A deep, resonating hum fills the air as ancient mechanisms pull the heavy doors aside, revealing the path into the capital. The moment the gates fully part, the soldiers step forward, eyes widening as they take in the city beyond. Even after all the stories, all the hype, none of them were prepared for what they saw. And for a long moment, the entire group stands frozen in place, utterly speechless, and amazed. Although they had tried to prepare themselves, seeing it with their own eyes was something else entirely. The floating islands. Some were small, no bigger than a noble''s estate, with luxurious houses perched on top. Others were massive, hovering like great stone fortresses in the sky. The sight was so surreal that the soldiers barely remembered to keep moving. One of them pointed, voice cracking with disbelief. "Look at those five floating islands next to the palace... They''re huge." Nyssara''s eyes went wide. "What?! It''s my first time seeing that!" Thurn, who had been bragging about the capital the entire way, suddenly felt like a fool. "Me too..." He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "Wow. That''s what you call a real floating island." Veltha nodded, still staring upward. "Compared to those, the smaller ones just look like fancy floating rocks." A few of the soldiers swallowed hard. Seeing a single floating island would have been enough to make them question reality. But five, clustered near the palace like sentinels of the sky? That was something else entirely. One of the younger soldiers hesitated before whispering, "Are those... natural?" Sorin smirked. "No. His Majesty controls this city. Nothing here is natural." The soldier shivered slightly, unsure if he should feel more in awe or afraid. Groth, however, eyes was shining looking at it. "I don''t know how it works, but it''s incredible." Nyssara said, "Can you imagine living up there?" Thurn whistled low. "Not just anyone gets to, though. Only the strongest." That thought sobered the soldiers a little. They had come here full of excitement, ready to see the heart of their new kingdom. But now, standing beneath walls that touched the sky and floating islands that defied logic. Then, a deep, rumbling voice cuts through the awe-filled silence. "So, what do you think of the capital city?" The air seems to grow heavier as everyone turns. Varkas. The massive lycanthrope stands before them, his sheer presence enough to make even the most battle-hardened soldiers instinctively stiffen. His towering frame, covered in thick fur, seems even more imposing against the grand backdrop of the capital. His eyes gleam with quiet amusement as he watches their stunned expressions. Without hesitation, the soldiers snap to attention, placing their fists over their chests in salute. "General Varkas!" their voices boom in unison. Sorin steps forward and salute, her tone firm but tinged with lingering amazement. "General, words can''t describe how incredible this city is. It''s... perfect for His Majesty." Varkas lets out a deep, hearty laugh, the sound reverberating through the air like rolling thunder. "Good," he says, his sharp fangs flashing briefly as he grins. "That''s exactly how it should be." His gaze sweeps over the soldiers, his expression shifting to something more authoritative. "Now, don''t just stand there gawking. His Majesty is waiting." The soldiers tense, instinctively straightening their postures. "Move," Varkas orders. "Lead your forces to the palace and receive your rewards." Excitement surges through the ranks at those words. The fatigue of the long march fades instantly, replaced by renewed energy. Sorin gives a sharp nod. "Yes, General!" With that, she turns on her heel, leading the soldiers forward. The murmurs of awe continue as they march deeper into the capital, their eyes drinking in every impossible sight around them. Chapter 72: Special Skill After a series of amazements, they finally arrive at the grand palace. Its sheer size alone is overwhelming, its towering spires reaching into the sky, polished stone reflecting the golden glow of the enchanted lights lining its walls. The soldiers march in silence, their heads tilting back as they take in the scale of the palace. But what truly makes them stop in their tracks is the sight of the being guarding the entrance. A monster clad in golden armor. The figure stands motionless, exuding an aura of sheer dominance. The polished plates of its armor gleam under the soft glow of the palace''s light, reflecting distorted images of the soldiers staring at it. Though its face is hidden behind an ornate helm, its presence alone is suffocating. One of the soldiers gulps. "That''s not just any guard..." A deep, resounding hum echoes as the enchanted gates part effortlessly, revealing the throne chamber within. The moment they step inside, even the most disciplined soldiers fail to suppress their gasps. The throne room is colossal. It''s so large that the thousands of soldiers present could fit inside without issue, yet the space remains open, grand, and imposing. Towering pillars carved with intricate symbols line the hall, stretching toward a ceiling that seems endlessly high. Massive chandeliers of floating crystal illuminate the chamber in a soft, ethereal glow. The polished marble floor reflects their figures as they move forward, every step sending faint echoes through the vast space. And then their eyes finally land on the throne. Seated atop a raised platform of dark stone, a figure sits upon a throne of black and gold. Alix. The soldiers freeze in place. The weight of his presence alone is enough to send a shiver down their spines. Draped in regal attire, his posture is relaxed yet commanding, one hand resting on the armrest of his throne. The golden accents of his dark clothing glint under the chandelier''s glow, and his piercing gaze watches them in silence. For a long moment, no one moves. No one speaks. Then, in perfect unison, the soldiers drop to one knee, fists over their chests. A single, thunderous voice erupts from the thousands present. "Glory to His Majesty!" Alix watches them kneel before him, thousands of soldiers unified in a single salute. His voice is calm yet commanding as he speaks. "Rise." The soldiers obey immediately, standing tall as they wait for his next words. "As I promised, you will be rewarded." Excitement ripples through the ranks, though they remain disciplined, standing at full attention. Alix''s gaze shifts. "Sorin, come forward." She stiffens for a moment before stepping forward confidently. Yet, as she approaches the throne and looks up at him, something unexpected happens. For a brief second, she sees him not just as a king but as something more. The way he sits upon the throne, his aura exuding absolute authority, the sharp intensity in his eyes¡ªit sends an unfamiliar thrill through her chest. Her heart beats faster. She crushes the feeling instantly, suppressing it deep within her. Now is not the time for such distractions. Stopping a few paces before him, she kneels once more. "Your Majesty." Alix regards her for a moment before speaking. "I will officially bestow upon you the title of Commander," he declares. "From this moment on, these soldiers will be under your command." Sorin quickly lowers her head. "I am honored, Your Majesty. I will not disappoint you." "I expect nothing less," Alix replies. He then addresses the entire army. "Apart from your promotions, each of you will receive a Tier One skill or spell of your choosing." This time, the murmurs turn into barely restrained excitement. Soldiers exchange glances, fists tightening with anticipation. Skills were not easily obtained, and receiving one directly from their king was an honor beyond measure. But Alix isn''t finished. His next words silence the entire chamber. "However, there is one more reward I will grant you." He lifts his hand, and a soft glow of energy swirls at his fingertips. "This skill is special. It will allow you to fight as one¡ªyour minds and movements linked in battle. With it, you will be able to challenge foes far beyond your current strength." Sorin''s breath catches slightly. A skill that unites an entire army? That isn''t just powerful¡ªit''s terrifying. The soldiers, initially unsure of what he meant, slowly come to the same realization. Their expressions shift from excitement to pure awe. Alix''s voice carries a final weight as he looks over them. "With this power, you will no longer be just soldiers." His eyes gleam. "You will be an unbreakable force." Silence reigns. Then, a single voice erupts from the crowd, raw with fervor. "Glory to His Majesty!" The cry spreads like wildfire, the soldiers'' voices rising in a deafening roar. "Glory to His Majesty!" Their king has given them power. And they will follow him to the ends of the world. ----- The return to Delon City is not without tension. Sorin, now officially a commander, leads the soldiers through the familiar streets alongside Thurn, Nyssara, Veltha, and Gorth. The once-deserted city is slowly coming back to life, yet the air remains thick with unease. The humans who had remained in Delon after its fall keep their distance, watching the armed monsters with wary eyes. Though there have been no reports of violence, the deeply ingrained fear lingers¡ªmonsters and humans cannot coexist. That is what they have always believed. But the reality before them challenges that belief. Word has spread beyond Delon''s walls. Whispers travel among the merchant caravans¡ªdangerous rumors, impossible ones. "The city is open to trade." "Humans are safe under the rule of the monsters." "The monsters... they''re selling high-grade weapons." It is this last rumor that finally draws the boldest merchants into the city. Among them is Roderic, a seasoned trader with a keen nose for opportunity. He stands at the edge of the bustling marketplace, watching, disbelieving. The sight before him defies logic. Chapter 73: Sovereigns Call to Arms Monsters¡ªtrue monsters, some towering over the stalls, others with claws and fangs¡ªare selling wares to human customers. A merchant stall, manned by a heavily built orc, displays swords and armor unlike anything Roderic has ever seen. The metal gleams unnaturally under the daylight, the craftsmanship beyond what any human blacksmith could achieve. Another stand, run by a beastman, offers vials of shimmering liquid. Potions? A pair of goblins haggle with a human trader over a crate of enchanted bolts, their sharp voices rising in argument before they finally settle on a price. Roderic exhales sharply. "This is... real?" "Oi, you buying or just staring?" He turns to see a massive, four-armed troll behind the counter, its lower set of hands idly polishing a gleaming battleaxe while the upper two gesture at the displayed goods. Roderic swallows hard before stepping closer. "That blade," he nods to a black and white longsword, "how much?" The troll grins, revealing sharp teeth. "Twenty thousand gold coins." Roderic''s face twitches. Twenty thousand gold? For this? From what he can see, the craftsmanship is excellent, but he has been in this business long enough to know that looks aren''t everything. Judging by the balance and the faint energy it gives off, it''s likely just a Tier 1 weapon. He can''t be completely certain without using his [Appraisal] skill, but his instincts rarely fail him. Still, twenty thousand gold is daylight robbery. Roderic inhales slowly, keeping his expression neutral. "Can I appraise it?" The troll shrugs, crossing its lower arms while continuing to polish the battleaxe with the upper pair. "Go ahead." With a nod, Roderic activates his [Appraisal] skill. A soft glow envelops the sword, shifting into a steady green hue. His suspicion is confirmed. Tier 1. He nearly scoffs out loud. That price is an insult. No human merchant would ever get away with charging this much for a mere Tier 1 weapon. But then again... this isn''t a human seller. He glances at the troll¡ªmassive, muscles like boulders, eyes glowing faintly with an inhuman light. Right. Haggling with this thing could be a fatal mistake. Suppressing a sigh, Roderic forces a polite smile. "Impressive craftsmanship." The troll grunts. "Of course it is." Roderic places the sword back on the counter, shaking his head. "Unfortunately, it''s out of my budget for now." The troll smirks, baring sharp teeth. "Are you sure?" It gestures toward a thick wooden log positioned beside the stall. "What about you swing that sword at this log? Might give you a surprise." Roderic hesitates. As a merchant, he isn''t exactly brimming with physical strength. Cutting through that log is impossible for someone like him, even if the sword is the sharpest Tier 1 blade in existence. But his curiosity gets the better of him. He picks up the sword again. It feels... normal. The balance is fine, the weight is as expected¡ªnothing special. With a deep breath, he swings downward. He already expects the blade to bounce off, maybe leave a shallow cut at most. But instead¡ª SHHHK! The sword nearly cleaves the log in half. Roderic stares, stunned. His arms tingle, his fingers tightening around the hilt as his mind races. That''s not possible. "What...? How is that possible?" He takes a step back, his heart pounding. "Even if this sword were the sharpest Tier 1 weapon, with my strength, it should be impossible to cut through like that." The troll grins, arms crossing over its massive chest. "Human, you wanna know how it happened?" Roderic swallows, still gripping the sword. "Please... do tell me." The troll chuckles. "Because that sword grants its wielder a buff in strength. Can''t you feel it?" Roderic furrows his brows and instinctively swings the sword again. WOOOSH! The air parts effortlessly, the motion smooth, almost... weightless. He can feel it now. His movements are sharper, stronger¡ªhis body lighter, yet more powerful. A weapon that enhances strength? That changes everything. Roderic exhales sharply, setting his stance. "I''ll buy it. Twenty thousand gold." But before he can even pull out his pouch, the troll lifts a hand, shaking its head. "Not for sale anymore." Roderic freezes. "...What?" The troll''s smirk widens, its tusks gleaming. "If you want it, you''ll have to bid for it. We''re holding an auction, and all we need is one more participant." Roderic''s eye twitches. This bastard played me. He clenches his jaw, exhaling through his nose. There''s nothing he can do¡ªno haggling, no arguing. If he walks away, someone else will claim the sword. With a slow nod, he mutters, "Fine. Lead the way." The troll grins, motioning for him to follow. It leads him toward a large tent near the back of the marketplace. As Roderic steps inside, he immediately spots two other human merchants already seated at a rough wooden table. They don''t even look at each other. Their expressions are grim, as if they''re painfully aware of the fact that they''ve been played by a monster. But neither of them is leaving. Because just like him... They want that sword. The bidding war begins. --- Alix sits in his workspace, his gaze fixed on the transparent floating screen before him. His status display shows the current citizen count: 126,437. Still far from the 500,000 required to unlock Level 500. He exhales through his nose, fingers tapping lightly against the armrest of his chair. Progress is steady, but not fast enough. Suddenly, the shadows in the room ripple. Kieran materializes from the darkness, kneeling instantly. His deep voice carries a sharp edge of satisfaction. "Your Majesty, the rumors you ordered us to spread in the neighboring human cities¡ªthey were successful. A large number of merchants have already begun flocking to Delon City." Alix''s lips curve slightly. "Good. With the items the monsters obtained from my dungeon, those human merchants are in for a shock." He leans back, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Gold coins will start flowing soon." He turns his attention to Kieran. "What about the Raltheon Kingdom''s reaction to Delon City?" Kieran remains kneeling, his expression unreadable. "From the reports of the shadows stationed in Eldoria, the army hasn''t mobilized to reclaim the city. Instead, the king has issued a Sovereign''s Call to Arms in the Adventurers'' Guild." Alix raises a brow. "A Sovereign''s Call?" Kieran nods. "It''s a special request where a ruling monarch petitions adventurers to reclaim a city overrun by monsters. Unlike a formal military campaign, this draws in mercenaries, independent warriors, and high-ranking adventurers who see it as both a challenge and an opportunity for wealth and prestige." Alix hums in thought, fingers drumming against the armrest. "So instead of sending his army, he''s relying on adventurers. A wise choice... for a desperate man." Kieran nods. "Indeed. It minimizes losses on his side while ensuring that strong individuals answer the call. Alix smirks. "That depends. Adventurers are unpredictable, but without proper coordination, they''ll just be a chaotic force fighting for personal gain. I doubt they can reclaim Delon City with just mercenaries." He leans forward slightly. "Keep monitoring the situation in all three kingdoms. If any major threats appear, I want to know immediately." Kieran bows his head. "Understood, Your Majesty." As Kieran vanishes into the shadows, Alix shifts his focus to the system interface. With a thought, he connects to Varkas. Deep within a private training hall, Varkas looking at Nikon swings his sword. But the moment Alix''s voice echoes in his mind, he stop Nikon. "Varkas," Alix''s voice is calm yet commanding. "Go to Delon City. You don''t need to interfere unless a Level 500+ human appears." Varkas immediately straightens, his golden eyes flashing with understanding. "As you wish, Your Majesty." With that, he sheathes his sword and turns to Nikon. "Training is over for today." Nikon nods, "Yes, Father." Stepping back as Varkas take out a flying carriage. Days pass, and Delon City transforms into a battlefield in waiting. The adventurers¡ªtwenty thousand strong¡ªgather outside the city, their excitement palpable. The rewards offered by the Raltheon Kingdom are absurdly generous. Many of these adventurers would normally never risk attacking an entire monster-held city, but a Sovereign''s Call to Arms is rare. Some even consider it a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. In Delon City, Sorin stands atop the walls, her gaze locked on the adventurers assembling beyond the gates. She has seen armies before¡ªdisciplined, trained soldiers who fight as one. But this? This is chaos waiting to happen. While twenty thousand adventurers is a staggering force, they are nothing like a real army. Some are elite warriors, seasoned veterans with battle-worn armor and eyes that have seen death. Others are reckless youths, drawn by the promise of wealth and glory. They wear mismatched gear, shifting impatiently, eager for the battle to begin. Sorin exhales, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon. Behind her, the ten thousand-strong monster army waits in disciplined silence. But they are not the same as before. Their auras have changed. Sorin can feel it¡ªthe subtle but undeniable presence of something more. It is the special skill granted by His Majesty. A power that binds them together, sharpening their instincts, making them move as a single entity. The days of scattered, instinct-driven combat are over. Now, they are a true army. She turns to Thurn and Veltha, Nyssara, and Groth, who stand beside him. "They''ll attack soon," Sorin says, her voice steady. "They believe numbers and greed will win this for them." Veltha, her crimson scales gleaming under the morning sun, lets out a soft chuckle. "They don''t know what they''re walking into." Thurn said. "Let them come. His Majesty has given us all we need." Chapter 74: The Battle Begin In a large tent near the center of the adventurer camp, five silver-rank adventurers gather around a wooden table. The air is thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and the distant crackle of campfires. The mood is a mixture of anticipation and greed. At the head of the table sits Grath, a Tier 4 warrior at Level 412. His muscular frame is draped in worn but well-maintained armor, and a confident smirk lingers on his lips. He leans back in his chair, stretching his arms with the ease of someone who believes he''s already won. "Alright, that''s it for the meeting," Grath announces, exuding the cocky air of a man who expects everyone to follow his lead. His gaze flicks toward the walls of Delon City, and his smirk widens. "That delicious monster woman... I''ll be the one taking her." He licks his lips as if already savoring his prize. Across the table, Derek, a Tier 3 warrior at Level 326, lets out a chuckle. He has the look of a battle-hardened mercenary, his armor dented from past skirmishes. He leans forward, resting an elbow on the table. "Hah! If you had a tail, it''d be wagging like a dog in heat," he teases. Laughter ripples through the group. Marik, a spear-wielding Tier 3 at Level 319, shakes his head, amusement dancing in his sharp eyes. "Sir, how about you don''t kill that monster? With your strength, subduing her should be easy. Just... don''t break her too much." Grath''s smirk deepens as he shifts his attention to Marik. "What''s your name again?" "Marik, sir," the younger warrior responds without hesitation. "I like you, Marik," Grath says, his voice carrying a hint of approval. He points at him with a finger, still grinning. "After this battle, you''re joining my adventurer group. I could use men like you." Before Marik can respond, Gavin Rolk, a broadsword-wielding Tier 3 at Level 321, lets out a low whistle. "Damn, Marik, moving up in the world already, huh?" Joran Fess, the last of the group and a Tier 3 warrior at Level 328, smirks as he runs a whetstone along his dagger. "Better hope you survive first," he mutters. Grath leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Survival''s a given. Those monsters have no idea what''s coming." Outside the tent, the distant sound of sharpening weapons and clinking armor fills the air. The battle for Delon City is about to begin. --- The ground trembles under the march of twenty thousand adventurers. Their armor clinks, weapons gleam under the daylight, and the air hums with tense anticipation. At the front, Grath rides confidently on his horse, his heavy armor polished enough to reflect the sunlight. His gaze sweeps across Delon City''s fortified walls, where the monster army stands in disciplined silence. With an arrogant grin, he pulls on the reins, bringing his horse to a halt. His voice booms across the battlefield. "Monsters! Why did you crawl out of your damn forest?" he sneers. "And you had the nerve to attack a human city?" Silence lingers for a moment, but then Grath''s gaze locks onto a particular figure standing at the front of the monster forces. Sorin. Grath''s smirk deepens. "Listen up! If you all withdraw now and hand over your leader as my slave¡ª" he gestures toward Sorin with a lazy wave, "¡ªI''ll be generous. You won''t all have to die today." The adventurers behind him chuckle, murmuring amongst themselves. Some are already picturing the spoils of war. But on the walls, Sorin''s expression twists in disgust. Her eyes burn with cold fury, and her fingers tighten around the hilt of his dagger. A low growl rumbles in her throat as she mutters under her breath, "I fucking hate humans." Then, louder, her voice carrying across the battlefield, Sorin glares down at Grath. "Human," she spits the word like venom, "do you really think numbers alone will win you this battle? You''re nothing but a bunch of weaklings clinging together, hoping that will make you strong." Grath chuckles, utterly unfazed. "Hah! Is that so? Then why are you hiding behind those walls?" He spreads his arms wide. "If you''re so strong, come down and face us!" The tension in the air thickens. Behind Sorin, Veltha lets out a quiet chuckle, while Thurn just looking amused, Nyssara look at the humans fiercely, as for Groth he is looking at the human mage. The monster army stands unmoving, eyes locked on their enemies. He draws his sword, pointing it toward Delon City''s gates. "Attack!" The adventurer army roars as they charge forward. From atop the walls, Sorin exhales slowly. His voice is calm, yet carries a deadly promise. "Archers, ready!!!" The battlefield erupts. "Loose!" Sorin''s voice rings sharp across the walls. The sky darkens as thousands of arrows streak downward, slicing through the air like a deathly rain. The first wave of adventurers barely has time to react. Some raise shields, others dive for cover, but the sheer number of arrows makes evasion nearly impossible. Screams erupt as bodies crumple to the ground, arrows piercing armor and flesh alike. Blood splatters across the dirt as the charge falters, adventurers stumbling over their fallen comrades. But those at the back press forward, pushing through the chaos, their battle cries rising above the dying. Nyssara watches, her claws twitching in anticipation. She wants to leap from the walls, to tear through the adventurers like they''re nothing¡ªbut she knows better. Even with her newly evolved Arachne body, covered in metal-like chitin, she isn''t invincible. If she jumps in now, the sheer number of enemies will overwhelm her instantly. She grits her teeth. Patience. Thurn, standing beside her, doesn''t hesitate. Raising one of his hands, he channels his Arachne tribe''s natural poison ability. His sharp fingers glow a sickly green, and with a flick of his wrist, dozens of small, needle-like projectiles shoot toward the adventurers below. "Poison Rain!" The tiny spikes pierce exposed skin¡ªnecks, faces, arms slipping through armor gaps. At first, the adventurers don''t even notice. Then, the poison takes hold. Chapter 75: Sorin Vs. Grath Men and women clutch their throats, their veins turning black as agony spreads through their bodies. Some collapse, convulsing violently, while others stagger forward before their legs fail them. "Shit¡ª! I can''t¡ª!" One man drops his sword, falling to his knees as foam bubbles from his mouth. Groth stands further down the wall, his hands glowing with flames. Unlike the others, his attack isn''t meant to kill. Not yet. He raises both hands and begins hurling fireballs into the approaching army¡ªbut only Tier 1 spells. Small, weak, almost laughable. Yet, that''s the point. "Ha! This monster is weak as hell!" A warrior laughs, batting away one of the fireballs with his shield. "This ain''t even¡ªAAAGH!" The moment his guard drops, an arrow finds its mark in his exposed neck. Blood gushes from the wound as he collapses, gurgling. Groth smirks. "Idiot." The low-tier spells are nothing but a distraction. Annoying, harmless on their own¡ªbut they force adventurers to react, to move erratically, to leave openings for real attacks. Veltha, watching the battlefield unfold, grins. "Not bad." Down below, the adventurers push forward, their rage drowning out their caution. The initial surprise of the ambush is wearing off, and now, they''re adapting. Grath, still on horseback, swings his massive greatsword downward, cutting a flaming arrow in half before it reaches him. His face twists in a snarl. "Enough of this bullshit! Push forward! Get to the damn walls!" With his command, the adventurers rally, breaking into a full sprint toward the gates and scaling ladders. Sorin watches them come, her eyes glinting. She draws her blade. "Now," he mutters. "The real battle begins." The clang of steel, the roar of spells, and the screams of the dying fill the battlefield. The adventurers push forward, scaling the walls, smashing against the defenses like an unrelenting tide. Among them, the five silver-ranked adventurers carve their way through the chaos, each one locking onto their target. Derek, the battle-hardened warrior, charges toward Nyssara, his massive war axe gleaming in the light. His grin is wild, eager. "Come on, spider bitch! Let''s see how tough that exoskeleton really is!" Marik, his spear spinning effortlessly in his hands, moves toward Thurn, eyes sharp, stance light. "Poison, huh? Annoying, but let''s see if you can keep up." Gavin, his broadsword resting on his shoulder, eyes Groth with a smirk. "Against a mage? This''ll be fun." Joran, dagger in hand, disappears into the shadows, circling Veltha like a predator. "Let''s see how well a monster can see in the dark." And then, there''s Grath. His boots crush the dirt as he steps forward, eyes locked onto Sorin. He takes his time, his gaze sweeping up and down her body¡ªher lean, powerful frame, the inhuman sharpness of her features, the way she grips her sword with effortless confidence. He grins, licking his lips. "Damn... you''re even better up close." Sorin''s expression tightens, her grip on her weapon twitching. "I''m going to carve that tongue out of your skull." Grath laughs. "Feisty. I like that." He rolls his shoulders, cracking his neck. "Come on, then. Show me what you got, monster." With a burst of speed, Sorin launches forward, her dual dagger blur as it arcs toward his throat. Grath barely manages to twist out of the way, her strike carving a deep gash into the air where his neck had been. He steps back, his greatsword swinging in a powerful counterattack. Sorin doesn''t meet his attack head-on¡ªshe vanishes. A flicker, a blur of motion, and she''s gone from his sight. Grath''s instincts scream at him, and he twists just in time to catch the glint of steel aiming for his ribs. He slams his armored gauntlet down, knocking her blade aside, but the force of her strike sends a numbing shock through his arm. "Fast," he mutters, eyes narrowing. Sorin doesn''t give him a second to recover. She shifts her stance, feet barely touching the ground as she twists, spinning like a shadow. The second dagger flashes toward his exposed side. Grath lets out a sharp breath. "Reinforce!" A faint blue aura flickers around his armor¡ªa Tier 2 defensive skill. Sorin''s blade slams into it, deflecting just enough for him to pivot away. She clicks her tongue, annoyed. "I''m going to enjoy this," Grath says, his smirk returning. He swings his greatsword in a powerful horizontal arc. Sorin ducks low, sliding beneath the massive blade with effortless grace. Before he can react, her knee drives up into his gut. A solid hit. Even through his armor, Grath feels it¡ªair forcibly leaving his lungs. But he''s no rookie. He grits his teeth, grounding himself before she can capitalize on the moment. His gauntlet snaps out, aiming for her skull. Sorin sees it coming. She twists mid-air, her body flipping backward in a tight motion, barely avoiding the crushing strike. She lands lightly, sliding back a few steps before raising her daggers again, her eyes sharp and calculating. Grath exhales, rolling his shoulders. A slow grin creeps onto his face. "I guess I underestimated you," he admits, flexing his fingers. His aura flares, and the ground beneath him cracks. "Greater Enhanced Strength!" A deep, golden glow erupts around his body, the Tier 3 buff skill reinforcing his muscles, making him stronger, tougher, and more relentless. His already massive frame seems to swell with power, veins pulsing with raw strength. But he doesn''t stop there. "Razor Reflex!" "Quickened Perception!" Two Tier 2 skills activate in succession, his eyes sharpening, his movements becoming eerily fluid. Sorin''s pupils narrow. He''s faster now. Not as fast as her¡ªbut no longer slow enough to toy with. She exhales. "Fine. Let''s not waste time." Her own aura surges. "Phantom Step!" A Tier 3 speed buff. Her body lightens, her movements becoming so swift they blur at the edges, as if reality itself struggles to contain her. Then, she stacks on more. "Shadow Agility." "Wind Walker." "Flowing Blade." Three Tier 2 buffs. Speed, mobility, fluid motion¡ªall enhancing her already inhuman agility. Grath''s eyes glint. "Now we''re talking!" And then¡ª They clash. Chapter 76: Finger of the Death God Skill Derek charges forward, his war axe whistling through the air as he swings at Nyssara''s chest. CRASH! The force of his strike shatters the ground beneath them, but when the dust clears¡ªNyssara stands, completely unscathed. Her evolved Arachne body, strengthened by consuming ores daily, allows her exoskeleton to rival enchanted steel. Derek''s eyes widen in shock. "The hell?" he growls. "That should''ve crushed your ribs!" Nyssara flexes her claws, her fingers tipped with razor-sharp talons. "You humans always underestimate what you don''t understand." With a blinding burst of speed, she lunges, her clawed hands slashing at Derek''s exposed arms. SLASH! Blood splatters across the ground as deep gashes appear on Derek''s forearms. He grits his teeth, stumbling back, but Nyssara isn''t finished. She follows up with a kick, her powerful Arachne legs striking his chest like a battering ram. Derek flies backward, his boots skidding against the dirt as he barely regains balance. His grip tightens around his war axe. "Alright then, monster," he growls. "Let''s see how much that armor holds up." He activates a skill. "Crushing Force!" His axe glows, gaining weight and destructive power. He rushes forward, bringing it down in a brutal overhead strike. Nyssara raises her arms, cross-blocking the attack with her reinforced exoskeleton. The ground beneath her shatters from the impact, but her body holds firm. "That won''t work on me," she says, her voice eerily calm. Then¡ªher carapace shifts. From her back, two bladed legs unfold, gleaming with unnatural sharpness. Derek''s eyes widen. "Ore-Forged Blades." With an unnatural twist, Nyssara''s blade-legs strike forward, forcing Derek to leap back to avoid being skewered. "Shit!" he curses. "You got extra arms?! That''s cheating!" Nyssara doesn''t respond. She just advances, the extra limbs moving with terrifying precision, her strikes relentless. Meanwhile, Thurn moves like a wind, slipping between Marik''s spear thrusts with ease. Marik is fast, his spearwork precise, but Thurn is an Arachne poison master. He doesn''t need to overpower his enemy¡ªjust one scratch critical strike is enough. Marik thrusts forward. Thurn sidesteps, his upper body swaying unnaturally, his extra spider legs anchoring him. His chitinous hands flex, revealing thin, needle-like claws. He feints left¡ªthen suddenly lashes out, grazing Marik''s forearm. A tiny cut. Barely a scratch. But Marik stumbles. His breathing grows ragged. His pupils dilate. "You..." Marik pants, sweat dripping down his face. "What the hell did you...?" Thurn tilts his head. "Your body is slowing, isn''t it?" Marik growls, forcing his body to move, but his reactions are now a fraction slower. His strikes become sloppier, his footwork uneven. Thurn''s venom is taking hold. Marik grits his teeth. "Damn you, spider bastard..." Thurn simply smiles before vanishing, his next attack already coming. Elsewhere, Veltha and Joran engage in a deadly dance of speed and deception. Joran, the rogue, moves like liquid, his dagger flickering in and out of sight. He''s used to hunting monsters, used to striking unseen and disappearing before the counterattack. But Veltha is a serpent. A predator. Her elongated body coils, her movements sinuous and unreadable. Her eyes glow in the, seeing through Joran''s tricks. He vanishes, flickering behind her¡ª Veltha whirls, her tail snapping out like a whip. CRACK! Joran barely dodges, feeling the gust of air as the massive tail nearly shatters his ribs. His eyes widen. "That''s not normal," he mutters. Veltha hisses. "You can''t hide from me." She lunges, her speed overwhelming. Joran tries to retreat, but her tail catches his ankle. He stumbles, and in that moment, Veltha''s claws flash forward. SLASH! Joran barely twists away, but not before Veltha''s talons carve deep gashes across his chest. Blood drips. Joran exhales sharply, realizing¡ªhe can''t outmaneuver her. She sees everything. His smirk fades. This fight is going to be hell. On the other side of the battlefield, Groth faces Gavin, the broadsword-wielding warrior. Gavin grins. "Fire magic, huh? Bad luck for you¡ªI''ve fought plenty of mages." He charges forward, his broadsword already glowing with energy¡ª "Blazing Ward!" Groth slams his staff into the ground. A dome of white-hot fire erupts, forcing Gavin to skid to a stop. The flames twist unnaturally, forming a spiraling wall of heat. Gavin''s eyes widen. "The hell...?" Groth chuckles. "Boy... you know nothing about fire." The flames collapse inward. Gavin barely raises his sword before the spiraling inferno lashes toward him. BOOM! The explosion engulfs him. For a moment, all that remains is a sea of flames. Then¡ª Gavin emerges, coughing, his armor scorched, his sword glowing red-hot. He glares at Groth. "Alright. That actually hurt." Groth smirks. "Then let''s see how much more you can take." He raises his staff again, the temperature rising. The battle rages on. ---- The adventurers slam their ladders against the fortress walls, their hands grasping at the rungs as they climb toward the top. The defenders above rain down arrows, spears, and stones, trying to halt the assault. But the adventurers are tenacious, driven by greed, pride, and bloodlust. Some fall, pierced by arrows, their bodies tumbling back to the ground. Others push forward, screaming war cries, their weapons ready. A Tier 2 adventurer, his greatsword strapped to his back, climbs furiously. His eyes lock onto the soldier above him. "Die, monster!" he roars, reaching the top¡ª A massive, clawed hand grabs his face. The soldier, a massive beast of a man, lifts the adventurer off the ladder with one hand. His eyes burn with an eerie black aura, his body exuding something inhuman. "You don''t belong here," the soldier says, his voice a deep, unnatural growl. Then¡ª CRACK! The soldier smashes the adventurer''s head against the wall and hurls his corpse back down onto the climbers below. The adventurers pause. Something is wrong. The defenders¡ªthe monsters turned soldiers¡ªshould be untrained, disorganized, scared. But instead... They move as one. Their attacks are coordinated. Their formations solid. Their aura¡ª It blends together. A single will. A single presence. One adventurer stares up, his voice shaking. "What... what the hell is this?" And suddenly¡ª An invisible pressure descends. A mage below, a Tier 2 spellcaster, hurls fireballs at the main gate, bombarding it with spells. Wood splinters, cracks forming. "Almost there!" he shouts. Chapter 77: Victory But the moment that pressure hits him, his spell fizzles. His heart pounds erratically. His breath catches in his throat. "W-What...?" The soldiers don''t even realize what they are doing. They are not strong enough to manifest the Finger of the Death God skill yet. But their combined focus, their singular intent to kill, is enough to project its presence. They feel it. Something vast. Something watching. The adventurers on the ladders hesitate. The mage stumbles backward. The defenders... grin. They lunge forward, cutting down the enemies, knocking ladders over, sending adventurers to their deaths. The mage, shaking, tries to cast again. But now¡ª A soldier drops from the wall above. He lands behind him, sword already swinging. The mage barely registers the attack before his head is severed from his shoulders. His body drops. The battle rages on, but the tide is turning. The adventurers feel it. This is no ordinary army. And they are losing. The battle rages on for an hour. The clash of steel, the screams of the dying, and the thunder of spells fill the battlefield. The once-confident adventurers are losing. Their morale is crumbling like the corpses piling around them. They were supposed to be the hunters. They were supposed to be the stronger ones. Yet now, their bodies shake. Their hands tremble. They have never fought something like this. The soldiers¡ªno, the monsters turned warriors¡ªmove with unnatural unity. Their presence, their killing intent, their very existence on the battlefield exerts a crushing pressure. It''s as if they are no longer individuals. They are one. And the adventurers are breaking. Derek gasps for breath, his arms aching, bleeding. His once-pristine armor is now cracked and soaked in his own blood. Nyssara is injured too¡ªcuts along her exoskeleton, black ichor dripping from wounds¡ªbut she stands firm. Her eight crimson eyes glow in the dim light. Derek grits his teeth. He refuses to die here. "Not bad, monster..." he mutters, wiping the blood from his lips. "But I ain''t going down yet." Nyssara tilts her head, amused. "You''re already dead. You just don''t realize it yet." She moves. Derek barely raises his axe before her blade-legs pierce through his shoulder. "AGH¡ª!" He stumbles back, his body screaming in agony. But Nyssara doesn''t stop. She lunges, claws flashing. Derek swings wildly, desperate, but Nyssara ducks beneath the strike, her leg sweeping out. CRACK! Derek''s knee snaps. He collapses, screaming. Nyssara looms over him, her blade-legs dripping with his blood. "You''re finished," she whispers. Derek''s vision blurs. He looks up at the sky, his breath ragged. He lost. The battlefield is nearly silent now. The adventurers have fallen. Their strongest warriors¡ª**Derek, Marik, Joran, Gavin¡ª**all dead. The defenders stand tall, wounded but victorious. Meanwhile, across the battlefield, the final duel rages. Sorin and Grath stand amidst the bodies of the fallen. The battlefield around them is chaos¡ªfire, steel, and blood¡ªbut in this moment, nothing else exists. Only the two of them. Grath grips his greatsword tightly. Blood drips from a deep gash in his thigh, but his eyes burn with determination. He sneers at Sorin, who stands before him, dagger in hand, her form barely swaying despite her wounds. Her blackened armor is torn, revealing deep lacerations across her arms and stomach. Blood stains the fabric, but her slitted eyes remain cold and focused. "I wanted you to become my slaves, but I didn''t think you would be this strong," Grath says, rolling his shoulders. "But this ends now." Sorin doesn''t respond. She simply adjusts her stance, her dagger gleaming ominously under the battlefield''s fading light. Grath exhales sharply and activates his strongest skill. "Executioner''s Judgement!" A crimson aura explodes around him, his greatsword radiating a deathly glow. The sheer force of the skill warps the air around him, sending a shockwave through the battlefield. The ground cracks beneath his feet. Sorin tenses. Grath surges forward, his sword swinging in an arc meant to cleave her in two. She dodges¡ªbarely. The blade cuts through empty space, but the sheer force tears into her side. Blood bursts from the wound. "Gh¡ª!" Sorin staggers, gritting her teeth. Grath doesn''t give her a moment to recover. He pivots, slamming his armored fist into her stomach. THUD! The impact sends her flying, her body crashing against the corpse-ridden ground. Coughing, Sorin pushes herself up, her dagger still clutched in her trembling hand. Her vision blurs for a moment, but she forces herself to focus. She won''t die here. "Stay down, monster," Grath growls, walking toward her, his greatsword raised for the final strike. Sorin''s grip tightens around her dagger. Not yet. Grath swings. And in that split second¡ªSorin moves. Faster than she ever has before. Her dagger hums, the runes along its edge glowing a deep crimson. "Death Requiem." The dagger''s Tier 4 skill. A shadowy mist erupts from the blade, wrapping around Grath like a reaper''s embrace. "What¡ª?!" Grath''s eyes widen. His body locks in place for a mere instant. But that''s all Sorin needs. She twists, her dagger flashing forward. SHNK. The blade plunges into Grath''s throat. His breath catches. His greatsword falls from his grip, clattering to the ground. His hands reach up, grasping at the dagger buried in his flesh, as if refusing to believe it. His legs wobble. His lips part, blood spilling out. "You..." he rasps, his voice a horrified whisper. "How do you... have two... Tier 4 skills...?" Sorin leans in close, her golden eyes staring into his fading ones. "You humans always underestimate us." With a final push, she twists the dagger. Grath gurgles. Then¡ª His body collapses. Dead. Sorin stands over him, breathing heavily, her dagger dripping with his blood. The final battle is over. And the monsters have won. For a moment, silence hangs over the battlefield. Then¡ª "Sir Grath is dead!" The panicked scream cuts through the chaos like a blade. An adventurer stumbles back, his face pale with terror as he watches Grath''s lifeless body collapse onto the blood-soaked ground. His voice cracks as he repeats, "Sir Grath is dead! He''s really dead!" Chapter 78: Aftermath The words ripple through the adventurers like a shockwave. Their leader, their strongest warrior¡ªthe one they believed to be invincible¡ªhas fallen. "Impossible..." one of them whispers, his sword trembling in his grip. "We''re finished," another breathes, taking a shaky step back. "If even Sir Grath lost¡ªthere''s no way we can win this!" The monsters, the so-called mindless beasts they came to slaughter, are standing tall, bloodied but victorious. The pressure weighing down on them is no illusion anymore. It''s real. "We have to run!" an adventurer shouts, panic fully gripping him now. "Fall back! FALL BACK!" Like a dam breaking, chaos erupts. Some adventurers immediately turn and flee, their survival instincts overriding any sense of duty or greed. Others hesitate, looking at their fallen comrades, their broken formations¡ªbefore the fear finally takes hold and they follow. Weapons are dropped. Shields abandoned. The once-mighty force of adventurers¡ªso confident, so arrogant when they first arrived¡ªnow scatters in every direction like frightened animals. "Don''t leave me¡ª!" One adventurer barely manages to take a few steps before a spear pierces his back. He gasps, blood spurting from his lips as he crumples to the ground. There is no mercy. The defending monsters, their bodies battered and bloodied, do not simply stand by and watch. They advance. With a bestial roar, Veltha coils and launches herself forward, her claws tearing into the nearest fleeing adventurer. Sorin watches from where she stands over Grath''s corpse, breathing heavily, her dagger still dripping with his blood. Her eyes flick to the battlefield¡ªwatching as the invaders break completely. They thought they were the hunters. But in the end¡ª They were the prey. Sorin exhales, her body screaming in protest as she forces herself to stand. Every wound throbs, her vision blurs for a moment, but she grits her teeth and steadies herself. The battlefield is a sea of corpses, and though the enemy is broken, the fight has taken its toll. Suddenly, a heavy presence appears beside her. "You did a good job fighting a veteran Tier 4 opponent," Varkas says, his deep voice carrying over the battlefield. Sorin turns her head slightly. The towering general stands next to her, with his crimson armor. In his hand, he holds a glass vial filled with a shimmering red liquid. A high-grade healing potion. She takes it without hesitation. "Thank you, General Varkas." Her voice is steady, despite the exhaustion threatening to pull her under. Varkas nods, then hands her four more potions. "Give these to the four," he says, his gaze shifting to the top of the wall. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes narrow slightly. He exhales, shaking his head. "Too bad there was no Tier 5 enemy among them," he mutters. "This kingdom can''t possibly be this weak." Sorin pauses, watching him. Varkas crosses his arms, his gaze distant, thoughtful. "Back then," he continues, "our enemies always had Tier 5 warriors. Even Tier 5 were as common as cabbage." He scoffs. "But here... nothing." Varkas doesn''t say the rest out loud. If he did, Sorin would be shocked to her core. Tier 5 is already a legend to them. For most of the soldiers standing here, it is something that exists only in ancient records¡ªheroes of the past, mythical figures who shaped history. Sorin, wiping the blood from her dagger, looks over the battlefield. The corpses of fallen adventurers litter the ground, their lifeless eyes staring into nothing. The stench of blood and burnt flesh hangs thick in the air. She tightens her grip on her weapon before turning to the nearest soldier. "Burn all the dead humans," she orders, her voice cold and firm. "We can''t leave their corpses rotting here." The soldier nods, immediately relaying the command. Sorin exhales sharply, suppressing the ache in her body as she continues. "As for our fallen... bury them properly. They fought and died for us. They deserve that much." A heavy silence follows. Even in victory, there is loss. At least 500 of their own are dead. The battlefield is filled with their bodies¡ªwarriors who had stood beside them just hours ago, now lifeless. But the human adventurers? Over 5,000 dead. Out of the 20,000 that attacked, only chaos and fleeing survivors remain. Varkas glances at Sorin, then at the battlefield. "We won," he states, his voice carrying no pride, only fact. Sorin nods, but she does not celebrate. Their side started with 11,000 soldiers. Now, 500 are gone forever. Victory always comes at a cost. She watches as the soldiers begin their grim task¡ªgathering their fallen comrades, preparing the human bodies for the pyres. The crackling of flames soon fills the air, mingling with the scent of burning flesh. --- The city gates of Eldoria groan as the first wave of battered, bloodied adventurers stumbles through. Their armor is cracked, weapons chipped, and their expressions hollow. The sight is enough to silence the busy streets. Merchants pause mid-sale, guards straighten in confusion, and commoners step back, murmuring among themselves. Then the whispers begin. "The adventurers... lost?" "By the gods, look at them. What happened?" "They were supposed to wipe out the monsters!" Word spreads like wildfire, carrying through the streets, weaving through alleyways, and pouring into taverns. Within hours, all of Eldoria buzzes with the news¡ªthe Adventurers'' Guild suffered a crushing defeat. Inside a rowdy tavern. Drunken voices rise and fall, filling the smoky air of a packed pub. A group of adventurers, still reeking of blood and dirt, sits slumped around a table, nursing their drinks like lifelines. One of them¡ªa young rogue with a bandaged arm¡ªslams his mug down. "I tell ya, those monsters ain''t normal. They ain''t just beasts anymore." A burly, half-drunk warrior scoffs. "Bah! You got beat by some oversized rats and lizards?" The rogue glares at him. "You weren''t there, dumbass! They fought like an army! Like¡ªlike they knew what they were doing!" He leans in, voice dropping. "And their commanders... they were Tier 3. One of them¡ªa damn tier 4 assassin monster¡ªkilled Sir Grath. Sir Grath!" Chapter 79: Envoy From Valgros Kingdom At the name, the tavern grows quieter. An older adventurer, face weathered by years of battle, takes a slow sip of his drink. "If they killed Grath... then this ain''t just some monster uprising. This is war." A merchant sitting nearby frowns, adjusting his tunic. "War? You think they''re actually... organizing?" Another adventurer¡ªthis one missing two fingers¡ªsnorts bitterly. "They''re already organized, idiot. And they''re getting stronger." He gulps down his drink and mutters, "Maybe they''re tired of the abuse we give ''em." A hush falls over the group. Outside, the city churns with its own rumors. Some whisper that the monsters have found a new leader, someone uniting them. But one thing is clear: fear is spreading. In the heart of the Raltheon Kingdom, within the grand halls of the Royal Palace, voices clash in heated debate. The air is thick with tension, nobles standing in circles, their faces flushed with anger. A noble in gold-trimmed robes slams his fist against a marble table. "This is an embarrassment! A bunch of beasts holding our cities? Killing our warriors? We should have crushed them by now!" Another noble, an older man with graying hair, scoffs. "Crushed them? The Guild sent twenty thousand adventurers, and five thousand never returned! What do you suggest, Lord Edris? Send our knights to die next?" Edris sneers. "Better than letting those abominations think they own our lands!" He turns to the throne, where King Edric sits, watching the chaos unfold. "Your Majesty, we must act now! If we wait any longer, those monsters will become a true threat!" Marshal Walric, standing near the king, finally speaks. "The Guild underestimated them. They thought it was a simple extermination. It wasn''t." He crosses his arms. "We need to reevaluate the enemy before making rash moves." The room erupts into shouting again. Some demand immediate war, others urge caution. But through it all, King Edric remains silent. The tension in the grand hall is suffocating. Nobles shout over one another, their voices a mix of anger, fear, and desperation. The weight of the defeat sits heavy in the air, poisoning every discussion with frustration. Lord Edris, his face red with barely restrained fury, turns sharply toward a man standing calmly among the chaos. Duke Fynn. Fynn, the leader of the noble faction that constantly opposes him. Edris clenches his fists. "What do you think, Duke Fynn?" he asks, his voice edged with impatience. The room quiets slightly as eyes shift to the composed duke. Fynn, dressed in elegant but understated noble attire, meets King Edric''s gaze instead of Edris''s. "Your Majesty, let''s not rush into anything." His tone is smooth, measured. "What happened in Delon city proves that we are dealing with something far beyond what we expected. Sending another army blindly will only end in another disaster." A murmur spreads through the room. Some nod in agreement, while others scowl. Fynn continues, "I suggest we gather more information first¡ªtruly understand what we are dealing with. We have resources, spies, and scouts for a reason. Acting recklessly now could cost us more than just soldiers." He pauses for a brief moment before adding, "Also, the envoy from Valgros Kingdom is set to arrive soon. They might be willing to assist us. After all, war is their expertise." Edris''s jaw tightens, his patience wearing thin. This damn snake. Always preaching caution, always delaying things. If not for these nobles causing trouble in the kingdom for the past few days, the situation wouldn''t have spiraled this far. But because there''s no evidence against them, Edric''s hands remain tied. Still, he refuses to let Fynn dictate the pace. "I want everyone here to send their most powerful scouts to investigate," Edric declares firmly, his sharp gaze sweeping across the gathered nobles. "We will work together to gather intelligence efficiently." The words are casual. The meaning is not. Fynn''s forehead twitches slightly. This sly bastard. By framing it as a cooperative effort, Edric ensures that every noble must participate. Some nobles exchange glances, clearly displeased, but none dare voice opposition. They know refusing this request would only raise suspicion. Fynn exhales quietly, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Of course, Your Majesty. That is a reasonable course of action." Edris smirks slightly, watching the silent frustrations ripple through Fynn''s faction. The next day, Eldoria City is draped in banners, and its streets are lined with soldiers in gleaming armor. A grand welcome is prepared for the envoy from Valgros Kingdom, but despite the show of hospitality, there is an unshakable tension in the air. Valgros is stronger, wealthier, and far more experienced in war than Raltheon. Their presence alone is enough to make the nobles uneasy. When the envoy arrives at the Royal Palace, they are led directly to the throne room. The heavy doors swing open, revealing two imposing figures at the head of the delegation. The first is Prince Darius¡ªthe third prince of Valgros Kingdom. He is young but carries himself with the confidence of someone who has never known defeat. His long black hair is tied back neatly, and his sharp golden eyes scan the room with mild amusement. Beside him stands Marshal Draven, one of Valgros'' most renowned warriors. His presence alone is suffocating. He is a Tier 5 powerhouse, his sheer aura he didn''t restraint, is enough to make some of the weaker knights instinctively tighten their grips on their weapons. His crimson and black armor gleams under the grand chandeliers, and the massive greatsword strapped to his back looks as if it could cleave a knight in half with a single swing. As they step forward, neither of them kneel. Instead, they only offer a slight bow. A clear sign of disrespect. A murmur spreads through the court. King Edric''s expression remains calm, but his fingers tighten on the armrest of his throne. He expected this. Valgros has never seen Raltheon as an equal. Prince Darius smirks slightly, his voice smooth as silk. "Your Majesty," he greets, his golden eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "I appreciate the warm welcome." Chapter 80: King Rewalt of Valgros Kingdom Edric inclines his head, his voice measured. "Prince Darius. Marshal Draven. It is an honor to receive the esteemed representatives of Valgros." Marshal Draven says nothing, only giving Edric a slow, assessing glance before shifting his gaze to the gathered nobles. A noble clenches his jaw. Another averts his gaze. Duke Fynn suddenly said. "Prince Darius we sought your kingdom''s aid," he replies smoothly. "After all, Valgros has always been unmatched in the art of war." Darius turns to Duke Fynn, his expression one of mock surprise. "Oh? Is that so?" He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. "My, my... what happened here, exactly?" His eyes gleam with amusement, but beneath that, there''s something sharper¡ªa silent message to Fynn. Act natural. Edric exhales slowly, forcing himself to remain calm. His voice is steady, but there''s an undeniable edge to it. "Prince Darius must be joking. With your kingdom''s intelligence network, you already know what has happened." The nobles shift uneasily. They know it too. Valgros wouldn''t have sent a prince and a Tier 5 marshal without knowing every single detail beforehand. Darius''s smirk deepens. "Ah, Your Majesty is truly wise," he says, voice smooth as silk. "Then let''s not waste time with pleasantries. My father wishes to offer his assistance. After all, what we face now is a common enemy of all humankind." Edric doesn''t react immediately, his gaze unreadable. But before he can speak, Edris scoffs. His voice is laced with distrust. "I don''t believe for a second that King Rewalt offers help without expecting something in return." He leans forward, arms crossed. "So tell us, Prince Darius¡ªwhat is it that you want?" Darius chuckles lightly, as if entertained by the accusation. "So direct," he muses. Then, with a casual shrug, he delivers his demand. "Very well. My father wants Misorn City." The words send a ripple of shock through the court. Instantly, several nobles step forward, their voices overlapping in protest. "Your Majesty, you can''t!" "Misorn is too important!" "Even if Vylan''s corruption has ruined it, the city''s resources coming from it to the kingdom remain untouched!" "The kingdom would suffer a great loss if we surrendered it!" The throne room erupts into chaos. Some nobles look at Edric, waiting for his response, while others turn to Fynn, anticipating his counter. But Fynn remains silent, watching the exchange unfold with a calculating gaze. Edric lets the uproar continue for a few moments before raising a hand. The hall falls into tense silence. His eyes lock onto Darius, sharp and unreadable. "You ask for one of my cities," he says, voice even. "That is no small request, Prince Darius. You must know how much it would cost me." Darius meets Edric''s gaze with an easy smile. "I don''t think it''s an unfair request, Your Majesty," he says smoothly. "From the intelligence we''ve gathered, there''s a Tier 5 monster in Delon City." The room falls into stunned silence. Several nobles exchange alarmed glances, while others whisper among themselves. A few look outright disbelieving. "A Tier 5?" one noble mutters, his voice shaking. "Impossible..." Edric himself feels a chill creep down his spine. His kingdom doesn''t even have a single Tier 5 warrior. How did a forest that had never birthed even a Tier 4 suddenly produce something of that level? Darius, clearly enjoying the reaction, leans back slightly. "Hard to believe, isn''t it?" His golden eyes gleam with amusement. "But my father wouldn''t have sent me here if we weren''t certain." A heavy tension hangs in the air. Even the most vocal nobles hesitate, realizing the weight of what this means. Then Darius speaks again, his tone turning almost casual. "Unless, of course, Your Majesty plans to use... that item." The room collectively takes a sharp breath in. A single sentence, yet it shakes the entire court. Several nobles pale, while others instinctively avert their gazes. That item. The one relic that keeps Raltheon from being swallowed by its stronger neighbors. To them, it is nothing short of a god''s artifact. Edric''s expression darkens, his fingers tightening slightly against the armrest of his throne. His voice, when he speaks, is cold and absolute. "Let''s not talk about that." Darius chuckles, his smirk unfading. "Of course, Your Majesty." Everyone in the room knows why Edric shuts the topic down so quickly. The reason the two powerful kingdoms bordering Raltheon haven''t crushed it is because of that item. But it can only be used three times. And in the kingdom''s long history, it has already been used twice. Edric exhales slowly, his fingers tapping against the armrest as the weight of the situation settles in. He hates it, but the truth is clear. Raltheon has no Tier 5 warriors. They can''t defeat that monster alone. His jaw tightens before he finally speaks, his voice steady but heavy. "I suppose we don''t have a choice, then." Darius''s smirk widens, his golden eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Such a wise decision, Your Majesty," he says smoothly. "I knew his majesty would understand the value of practicality." He gestures respectfully toward the silent figure standing beside him. "Sir Marshal Draven will personally deal with the Tier 5 monster. Your Majesty and your forces only need to handle the small fries." The weight of Draven''s presence alone is suffocating. A man who has seen countless battlefields, standing there like a war god in waiting. Edric''s gaze shifts to the marshal. "And you''re confident you can handle it?" For the first time, Draven speaks. His voice is low and firm, carrying the quiet certainty of a man who has never known fear. "It will die." A simple statement. A declaration. A chill runs through the nobles. Edric''s expression remains unreadable. "Misorn is still part of my kingdom until this war is won." Darius inclines his head. "Of course." The court remains tense, but for now, the deal is made. ------ Back in Alix, the atmosphere in his work chamber is stagnant. He leans back in his chair, staring at the high ceiling, exhaling deeply. Chapter 81: The Fight Between Tier 5 (part 1) "Should I visit the other two kingdoms?" he mutters to himself. "Doing nothing in this empty capital is really making me lose my mind." Before the thought lingers too long, a ripple distorts the air, and Vaelith materializes before him, his presence as silent as ever. His expression remains neutral, but Alix can sense the weight behind his words. "Your Majesty, there''s been a mishap in Delon City," Vaelith reports. "A spy managed to slip past the Shadows and sent a message using some kind of device before they eliminated them. The enemy likely knows about Varkas now." Alix simply nods, unfazed. "That''s fine," he says, his tone calm. "They''ll probably send another group, this time with a Tier 5." He leans forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand. "Let them prepare. As for Varkas..." A small smirk tugs at his lips. "He''s probably going to be thrilled that he gets to fight again." Vaelith remains composed, but there''s a flicker of understanding in his gaze. "Just like usual," Alix continues, "you and the Shadows will survey the area. If there''s anyone lying in wait, take care of it before they make a move." Vaelith bows his head slightly. "Understood, Your Majesty." With that, he vanishes as silently as he came, leaving Alix alone once more. But now, there''s a shift in his mood. ---- Sorin stands atop the wall, surveying the army assembled before her. The battlefield may have settled for now, but war is far from over. The moment she received the report, she wasted no time. "Prepare the troops," she had ordered without hesitation. Now, her forces stand ready¡ªan army of fourteen thousand monsters, each one stronger than before. The recent additions¡ªfour thousand more who chose to join¡ªare no longer the same beings they once were. After training in Finger Of The Death God, they have begun their transformation. Their bodies radiate a dark aura, their eyes sharper, their movements eerily precise. And now, the enemy stands before them once more. Sorin''s eyes narrow as she takes in the sight. Twenty thousand humans, same numbers as before¡ªbut this time, the insignias are different. Multiple noble houses. A coalition. But none of that matters. Because floating above them, defying gravity itself, is a man. A human. No, not just any human. A Tier 5. The sight sends a ripple of unease through the monster ranks. The existence of a Tier 5 has always been nothing more than a distant legend to them. Something spoken of in hushed whispers, a power so overwhelming that it seemed almost unreal. And yet, here he is. Hovering. Just like in those legends. A deep, growling voice rumbles beside Sorin. "He flies." She doesn''t turn. "I see it." Another monster shifts uneasily. "Commander, How do we fight that?" Sorin crosses her arms. "We don''t need to fight it, do you still don''t have any faith in our kingdom? Even after you all saw the capital city?" Then, a chuckle rises from the ranks behind her. A voice, filled with amusement and anticipation. "Heh... Finally," Varkas mutters, stepping forward. His body, now even more monstrous after his continuous training, radiates overwhelming bloodlust. His grin stretches wide, eyes locked onto Draven like a predator spotting its first real prey. "I was starting to get bored." A hushed murmur spreads through the monster ranks. Then, recognition sets in. "It''s General Varkas!" one monster exclaims, his voice filled with awe. "General Varkas is a legendary Tier 5?!" another gasps, disbelief quickly turning into exhilaration. The realization crashes over them like a wave. The atmosphere shifts instantly. What was once unease transforms into roaring confidence. "General Varkas will tear that human apart!" Sorin watches as the morale of her troops skyrockets. The fear that Draven''s presence had instilled is gone, replaced by sheer battle lust. Varkas, standing tall at the front, rolls his shoulders, letting out a low chuckle. "That''s right," he mutters, his crimson eyes gleaming. "Remember whose soldiers you are. Soldiers of Erevaris knows no fear!" The monsters behind him let out eager roars, pounding their weapons against the ground. On the other side of the battlefield, the human soldiers shift uneasily. Their commander¡ªone of the noble captains¡ªgrits his teeth. "What''s with this reaction? They were afraid just a moment ago¡ª" Draven doesn''t bother looking at the rattled soldiers below. His golden eyes remain locked onto Varkas, his smirk unwavering. Varkas tilts his head slightly, stepping forward. "Are you alone?" His voice is almost mocking, as if he finds the idea amusing. Draven chuckles, arms folding behind his back. "You think I alone am not enough?" His tone carries no arrogance¡ªonly certainty. For a brief moment, the battlefield is silent. Then, without warning¡ªVarkas moves. A single step. A blur. The next thing anyone sees¡ªDraven is no longer floating. He''s hurtling downward. The soldiers, both human and monster, barely process what just happened. They didn''t even see the punch. One moment, Varkas was standing still. The next, Draven''s body is a meteor crashing toward the earth. A thunderous boom erupts as Draven slams into the ground, dust and debris exploding into the air. Cracks spiderweb through the earth, swallowing the unlucky human soldiers caught in the impact zone. The battlefield holds its breath. The monsters stare in awe. The humans stare in horror. The silence that follows is brief. "Attack! Kill them all!" one of the human commanders roars, snapping the stunned soldiers out of their daze. The human army surges forward like a tidal wave, weapons raised, battle cries filling the air. The monsters, emboldened by Varkas''s overwhelming display, respond with their own thunderous roars and charge to meet them. At the same time, a silhouette shoots up from the shattered ground. Draven. His expression is no longer composed¡ªhis smirk is gone, replaced by a cold, seething anger. Blood drips from his forehead, but he pays it no mind. In his hands, a massive greatsword materializes, gleaming with golden energy. "You bastard," he growls, voice low and sharp. "You dare humiliate me?" Chapter 82: The Fight Between Tier 5 (part 2) Varkas only grins, his crimson eyes flashing with anticipation. "Is that all it takes to piss you off?" His stance is relaxed, but his muscles coil like a predator about to pounce. Draven doesn''t answer with words¡ªhe answers with action. A boom erupts in the air as he propels himself forward, his greatsword cleaving through the sky in a red arc. The sheer force of the swing sends a shockwave downward, it''s like splitting the earth below. Varkas doesn''t dodge. He meets it head-on. Clang! Varkas''s clawed hand slams against the flat of the blade, stopping it mid-swing. The impact alone sends out a concussive force that rattles both armies below, knocking weaker soldiers off their feet. Draven''s eyes widen for a split second before he twists, activating Blazing Fang Slash¡ªa Tier 3 sword technique. A second, fiery slash ignites from his blade, surging toward Varkas. Varkas growls and counters instantly. His claws glow with eerie, crimson energy as he swipes downward¡ªBlood Rend¡ªa Tier 3 lycanthrope technique. The air screeches as the blood-infused strike tears through the fire, splitting it in half. Draven is forced back, flipping mid-air to regain his balance. His expression darkens. "Tch." "Come on," Varkas taunts, cracking his neck. "That can''t be all, can it?" Below, the battlefield has erupted into pure chaos. Human soldiers clash against monstrous warriors, spells and weapons tearing through flesh and steel alike. The ground is painted in blood, but the monsters are relentless. Sorin watches with cold calculation, killing a human knight with a single, precise strike. Her gaze flicks upward to the two figures clashing above. Her hands gripping the cold stone of the fortress wall. Her breath catches in her throat. She just can''t believe what she is seeing. It''s like two gods are fighting in the sky. The sheer power behind each clash is terrifying. Even the Tier 2 and Tier 3 skills they use no longer resemble what she knows. The way they manipulate the battlefield, the way the air bends around their movements¡ªit''s something beyond ordinary understanding. Draven vanishes from sight¡ªno, he''s moving too fast to follow. A golden streak of energy flashes through the air, and in an instant, he''s right in front of Varkas, his greatsword screaming toward the lycanthrope''s chest. Cleaves¡ªa Tier 4 skill, but under Draven''s control, it carries the force of something far beyond that rank. But Varkas laughs. Instead of dodging, he meets the attack head-on, raising his arm. His muscles bulge as dark energy surges through his veins¡ªIronhide Bestial Guard, a Tier 4 defensive ability unique to high-level lycanthropes. The blade meets flesh. A deafening clang erupts, the impact sending shockwaves. Below, weaker soldiers¡ªboth human and monster¡ªcover their ears, feeling as if they''re being torn apart. Varkas grins, baring his fangs. "Is that really all?" Then, with a sudden burst of power, he slams his knee into Draven''s ribs. A crunch echoes through the air. Draven is launched backward like a cannonball, but he regains control instantly, twisting mid-air and digging his sword into empty space¡ªno, not empty. He''s cutting the air itself, forcing himself to stop. A golden glow pulses from his weapon as he activates Storm Divider, a Tier 4 technique that shreds anything in its path. The attack carves through the battlefield, splitting the very sky. But Varkas doesn''t move. He watches. He waits. Then¡ªhe lunges. Sorin barely sees him move. One moment, he''s standing still, and the next¡ª BOOM. Varkas slams a fist straight into the incoming golden energy, and destroys it. The power behind Draven''s skill disintegrates against his sheer strength alone. Then, without pause, he swings his claws downward¡ª Blood Reaver''s Claw. A Tier 4 lycanthrope skill, enhanced by his monstrous physique. A single swipe tears through the very air, a crimson arc of destruction racing toward Draven. Draven has no choice. He teleports¡ª No, not teleport. His body flickers as he activates Skystep Mirage, a Tier 3 movement skill that allows him to phase through reality for an instant. He barely evades the attack. The crimson slash continues downward, obliterating an entire section of the battlefield below. Human soldiers caught in the radius are gone. Their armor, weapons¡ªeverything¡ªerased in an instant. Draven reappears several meters away, panting. He wipes the blood from his mouth, eyes narrowing. "I see now..." Varkas cracks his knuckles, rolling his shoulders. "Oh? You see what, exactly?" Draven grins, though there''s no humor in it. Only razor-sharp focus. "You''re the real thing." Varkas scoffs. "Took you long enough to figure it out." Draven lifts his greatsword, golden lightning crackling around his body. His expression is sharp, unwavering. "I''ll go all out now," he declares. The air itself shifts. The sky darkens, thick storm clouds spiraling above. The battlefield below grows silent as the unnatural pressure weighs on every soul present. Then¡ªBOOM. A deafening roar of thunder erupts, and an explosion radiates from Draven''s body, engulfing him in an aura of raw, electrified power. This is his true strength. This is why he is called the Thunder God of Valgros. [Divine Storm Ascendance]¡ªA Tier 5 buff skill. His body glows like a deity descending upon the battlefield. Every inch of him surges with golden arcs of lightning, dancing like living serpents across his form. His movements become faster, his aura doubling in intensity. His greatsword, now fully enveloped in lightning, hums with enough power to tear the sky apart. Even the monsters below feel it¡ªpure, unrelenting power. Varkas, however, does not flinch. "Hah... Now that''s more like it." His grin widens, excitement flashing in his crimson eyes. He rolls his shoulders, his muscles tightening, his entire form exuding a wild, chaotic presence. Then, his own energy surges. A deep, guttural growl reverberates through the air. Dark red energy erupts from his body, forming a towering aura of primal, bloodthirsty might. His already massive frame expands slightly, his claws lengthening, his fangs sharpening. His silver fur bristles, and his crimson eyes glow brighter than ever. [Lunar Apex Frenzy]¡ªA Tier 5 buff skill. Chapter 83: The Fight Between Tier 5 (part 3) The sheer force of his transformation sends a shockwave through the battlefield. The ground beneath him cracks. The wind howls. His presence alone is suffocating. But he holds back. He doesn''t activate his second Tier 5 buff¡ªthe one granted by his bloodline. He doesn''t want to frighten his enemy into running away. And then¡ª They move. The sky explodes. Their clash creates a powerful shockwave. The wind roars as their figures blur, appearing and vanishing across the battlefield like flashes of lightning and crimson energy. Draven swings¡ªhis blade moves faster than the eye can follow. Varkas counters¡ªhis claws meet steel, sending arcs of golden lightning and crimson energy scattering into the stormy sky. BOOM! A massive explosion erupts as their attacks collide, sending ripples across the battlefield. The ground quakes. The fortress walls tremble. Then¡ªDraven accelerates. He vanishes and reappears behind Varkas, his sword already mid-swing. A bolt of divine lightning descends from the sky, striking his blade at the moment of impact. THUNDEROUS JUDGEMENT! A Tier 4 skill amplified by his buff, turned into something beyond comprehension. The sheer force is enough to make the air itself wail. But Varkas twists at the last second. He dodges¡ª. But the attack still grazes his side, sending a shallow burning cut across his ribs. For the first time, blood spills from his body. Draven grins. "Got you." Varkas chuckles. "Not bad." Then he grabs Draven by the wrist. Before Draven can react, Varkas pulls¡ª And slams his knee into his stomach. CRACK! Draven''s eyes widen as pain shoots through his core. Varkas doesn''t stop. He pivots, using his full monstrous strength, and hurls Draven through the air like a meteor. The Valgros warrior crashes into the battlefield below, carving a massive trench through human and monster alike before coming to a stop. Silence. Then¡ªDraven stands up. Lightning crackles around Draven''s battered body as he straightens, his breathing ragged but his eyes burning with defiance. His armor is cracked, blood drips from his mouth, but he refuses to fall. Varkas watches him with something between amusement and admiration. "You just don''t know when to quit, do you?" Draven wipes his mouth, smearing blood across his gauntlet. "I don''t lose. Not to monsters." His greatsword pulses with divine energy, golden arcs crackling in the air. Varkas chuckles, shaking his head. "You should''ve stayed down." The air shifts. The battlefield stills. Then, it happens. Varkas raises his clawed hand, and a deep, guttural growl rumbles from his chest. His crimson eyes glow brighter¡ªlike twin embers burning in the darkness. The blood in his veins surges, and the energy radiating from him becomes suffocating. He is done playing. "Let''s end this," he murmurs. A pulse of dark crimson energy erupts from his body, expanding outward like a tidal wave. The battlefield trembles. The sky darkens¡ªnot with storm clouds, but with something deeper, something primal. Then¡ªhis aura explodes. [Sovereign Predator''s Howl]¡ªA Tier 5 skill. The sound is unlike anything ever heard before. It is not just a roar¡ªit is a command, a decree from the apex predator of all living beings. It is the sound of absolute dominance. The moment it reaches Draven, his body freezes. Not by choice. His nerves fail. His muscles refuse to obey. His divine lightning flickers, struggling against the overwhelming force pressing down on him. His heartbeat stutters. His breath is stolen. His mind fractures. Draven''s vision distorts. His consciousness wavers. He feels small. Helpless. A rabbit caught in the gaze of a wolf¡ªno, something worse. His mind screams at him to run, but his body won''t move. Then, Varkas vanishes. Before Draven can comprehend what''s happening, a clawed hand grips his face. And smashes him into the ground. The earth shatters. A crater erupts beneath them, debris exploding outward. The sheer force of the impact sends shockwaves across the battlefield. Draven tries to move. He can''t. His vision flickers. His mind is slipping. No... No, he''s not done. He¡ª Another impact. Varkas slams him deeper into the ground. Draven''s divine lightning sputters out. His aura crumbles. His eyes turn dull. His consciousness snaps. The battlefield is silent. Varkas watches as Draven''s body twitches once, then goes completely limp. The once-mighty Thunder God of Valgros, the warrior who stood at the peak of the three kingdoms¡ªdied just like that. The battlefield stands frozen in stunned silence. The coalition soldiers, who had moments ago been rallying behind their strongest warrior, now watch in horror as Draven¡ªtheir legend, their hope¡ªlies motionless in the crater. Then, chaos erupts. "Sir Draven has fallen!" A desperate scream breaks through the stillness. "Retreat! RETREAT!" The coalition commanders don''t hesitate. They''ve seen enough. If Draven couldn''t win, no one could. "Fall back! Get out of here!" One of the knights yells, his voice raw with panic. The soldiers don''t need to be told twice. The once-organized ranks dissolve into madness as 14,000 human warriors turn and flee. Some drop their weapons in blind terror, others push past their comrades in their desperation to escape the nightmare before them. But then¡ªVarkas hears his voice. Alix. "Kill as many as you can." A slow, wicked grin spreads across Varkas''s face. His crimson eyes gleam with hunger as he straightens, rolling his shoulders. "As you wish, Your Majesty," he murmurs, his voice dripping with amusement. Then¡ªhe moves. A blur of crimson streaks across the battlefield. Varkas tears into the retreating army, his claws slashing through steel and flesh alike. Screams rise into the air as bodies are ripped apart, armor proving useless against his monstrous strength. A knight tries to turn and fight¡ªVarkas decapitates him with a single swipe. A mage casts a desperate spell¡ªVarkas is already behind him, claws through his chest, ripping his heart out before he even finishes his chant. A group of spearmen rally together, hoping to slow him down. Varkas grins. "Good effort." He lunges¡ªBlood Reaver''s Claw! A crimson arc of destruction carves through them, bodies torn apart mid-flight. The survivors are sent sprawling, their formation shattered. He keeps going. Chapter 84: Three Marshals Of Valgros Kingdom He leaps high, then descends¡ªslamming into the ground like a meteor, the impact alone pulverizing a dozen soldiers beneath him. Blood and dust fill the air. More try to run. More fail. His claws carve through flesh. His fangs sink into throats. Every movement is a blur of death, his speed and strength unmatched. Soldiers die in droves, their screams drowned beneath the relentless slaughter. But even with his power, even with his speed¡ªhe can''t kill them all. They run. As fast as their broken bodies can carry them. And Varkas? He only laughs. By the time the last of the coalition soldiers vanish beyond the horizon, the battlefield is eerily quiet. The ground is soaked in blood, the air thick with the scent of death and burnt flesh. From the fortress walls, the soldiers watch in stunned silence. No one speaks. No one moves. Then¡ª "By the gods..." Nyssara finally breathes, her golden eyes wide with disbelief. "General Varkas is amazing!" She isn''t the only one thinking it. Thurn crosses his massive arms, shaking his head slowly. "Monstrous. That''s the only word for him." Nyssara turns to him, eyes still fixed on the battlefield. "Do you think we could ever reach that kind of strength?" Thurn snorts, glancing at her. "Sorin, maybe. You? Fifty-fifty at best.*" Nyssara glares at him in annoyance. "Oh, shut up." Veltha, coiled nearby, hisses in amusement as she drinks a health potion. The torn scales along her serpentine body slowly mend, the potion''s effects taking hold. "I don''t know, Thurn," she says, her voice smooth. "Nyssara might surprise us one day." Groth, still gripping his axe, exhales deeply. "If we all push ourselves, if we never give up¡ª" His sharp red eyes flick toward the horizon, where the last remnants of the human army are fleeing for their lives. "¡ªand with His Majesty''s guidance, we''ll all reach Tier 5." Sorin, who has been silent, finally speaks. "We have to." Her voice is quiet but firm, filled with conviction. "If we want to stand... beside His Majesty... we must become stronger." The group falls into silence, the weight of those words settling over them. They all know it. They''ve seen what true power looks like today. And now¡ªthey crave it. ----- The expensive glass shatters against the marble floor, its fragments scattering across the room. The crimson wine seeps into the cracks like spilled blood, but Darius barely notices. His hands tremble, his breathing ragged. This wasn''t supposed to happen. He grips the armrest of his chair so tightly his knuckles turn white. His mind spins, replaying the words he just heard. The good news he had been waiting for¡ªthe victory he had all but secured¡ªnever arrived. Instead¡ª "Why did this happen?!" Darius roars, his voice echoing through the lavish chamber. His body shakes with rage. His vision blurs with disbelief. "Becoming Crown Prince was already within my reach!" His father had promised him. Promised him. If this campaign succeeded, if he brought victory to Valgros, then the throne would be his. His father had even assigned one of the kingdom''s marshals to ensure his success. And yet¡ª "Draven¡ªdead?" His voice cracks. "That''s impossible! There''s no way he died to some nobody!" He paces, his mind unraveling with every step. Draven, the Thunder God of Valgros, the undefeated warlord, had fallen. Not in an epic battle against a rival champion, not against an army of equal might¡ªbut to a monster. A monster. Darius grips his hair, his breath coming in short, erratic gasps. "No... no, there has to be another explanation!" His eyes dart wildly, his thoughts latching onto a desperate theory. "It must be the work of the Ordeya Kingdom! Yes! They must have interfered! There''s no way¡ªno way¡ªa monster killed Draven!" His words are filled with hysteria, but he clings to them like a drowning man grasping at straws. He refuses to believe that some unknown beast, some nameless creature, had shattered his ambitions. His chest heaves. His heart pounds. Then, his rage turns cold. His trembling stops. "I won''t accept this." His voice lowers, his eyes darkening with dangerous intent. "I won''t allow this setback to ruin me." His father will make him Crown Prince. -------- The throne room is heavy with tension. The air is thick, suffocating, as King Rewalt sits upon his throne, his fingers tapping against the armrest in slow, measured movements. His expression is unreadable, but the fury simmering beneath the surface is undeniable. Before him, Darius kneels, his body stiff, his mind scrambling for the right words. "Father, please, listen!" Darius''s voice wavers slightly, but he forces himself to remain composed. "This was not my failure! The Ordeya Kingdom¡ªthey must have interfered!" He clenches his fists. "Draven would never have fallen to some unknown monster! There must have been treachery¡ª" SLAM! King Rewalt''s fist crashes down upon the throne''s armrest, the sound reverberating through the chamber like thunder. "Enough." Darius flinches, his throat tightening. He dares to look up. His father''s gaze is like steel¡ªcold, merciless, and filled with disappointment. "Darius." The king''s voice is low, but the weight behind it is suffocating. "You disappoint me." Darius''s breath catches. "Do you have any idea?" Rewalt continues, his tone sharp as a blade. "The magnitude of your failure? The loss of Draven is a huge loss. And you? Instead of taking responsibility, you stand before me spewing nonsense?" "It''s not nonsense!" Darius protests, his voice rising in desperation. "There''s no way Draven could have lost under normal circumstances! It had to be sabotage¡ª" "Silence!" The sheer force behind the king''s command crushes Darius''s words in his throat. King Rewalt leans forward, his presence overwhelming. "Your mistake alone is enough for me to strip you of your right to fight for the throne. Do you understand that?" His golden eyes burn with barely restrained fury. "One more failure, Darius... and I will not be so lenient." Darius''s breath quickens. He clenches his fists so tightly his nails dig into his palms. This isn''t fair. This was never supposed to happen. But he knows better than to argue further. Lowering his head, he grits his teeth and forces the words out. "I understand, Your Majesty." The king exhales slowly, leaning back against his throne. "Good. Because there will be no second mistake.*" Silence lingers between them. Then, with a wave of his hand, King Rewalt dismisses him. "Leave."* Darius rises stiffly, his legs feeling like lead as he turns and walks toward the massive doors of the throne room. After the doors fully close behind Darius, a deep voice finally breaks the silence. "Your Majesty." Marshal Zinov, who has remained quiet throughout the exchange, finally speaks. His voice is calm, but there is a weight behind his words. King Rewalt rubs his temples, his patience already worn thin. "What is it, Zinov?" King Rewalt rubs his temples, his patience already worn thin. "What is it, Zinov?" Zinov steps forward, his crimson cape brushing against the polished floor. He is a man of few words, his expression unreadable beneath his silver-gray beard. "The western border, Your Majesty. The region where Marshal Draven was stationed." He pauses briefly, allowing the words to settle. "If we do not station another commander soon, the monsters from the crevice will start pouring into the kingdom." King Rewalt exhales sharply, his headache worsening. The Valgros Kingdom has always been strong. Even with Draven''s death, they still have more Tier 5 warriors than their rivals. The Ordeya Kingdom has only one. Raltheon? They don''t even have a single Tier 5 combatant. And yet¡ªstrength alone is not enough. Each of his marshals has an irreplaceable duty. Draven had been guarding the western border, holding back the endless tide of monsters that emerged from the abyssal crevice. Without him, that cursed land would soon overflow, and no ordinary army could hold it back. Marshal Tesvin was stationed at the southeastern border, fending off the relentless barbarian tribes. No matter how many times Valgros crushed them, those savages always returned, as if the land itself bred them endlessly. Moving Tesvin would only shift one disaster onto another. That left only Zinov himself. The king''s golden eyes settle on the seasoned marshal. "Can you leave your post?" Zinov shakes his head. "I cannot. The capital''s defenses are my duty. If I leave, the heart of the kingdom is exposed." Rewalt massages his forehead. "Damn it." For the first time in years, Valgros is short on power. Losing a Tier 5 warrior was not just a blow¡ªit was a crack in their foundation. A thought suddenly strikes Rewalt. His fingers stop drumming against the armrest as his eyes narrow in contemplation. "What about General Rostri?" he asks, his voice measured. "He''s already at the peak of Tier 4... level 499." Zinov considers the suggestion, stroking his beard. After a moment, he nods. "He should be able to handle it, Your Majesty." His tone is steady, confident. "After all, no Tier 5 monsters have ever emerged from that crevice. As long as it stays that way, Rostri can maintain the defenses." Rewalt exhales slowly, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. "Let''s do that, then." But as he speaks, there is an undeniable trace of regret in his voice. He leans back against his throne, golden eyes dark with dissatisfaction. "Too bad Rostri can''t break through to Tier 5," he mutters. "Even after everything we did to push him... he just couldn''t." Zinov remains silent. There is nothing to say. Some warriors are born to transcend their limits. Others, no matter how talented, no matter how close they come, will never take that final step. Chapter 85: Aiden and Garran And that is the difference between a general and a marshal. "Zinov." His voice is low, serious. "Do you think that monster came from another continent?" Zinov''s gaze flickers slightly, considering the possibility. He exhales through his nose, arms crossing over his broad chest. "It might have," he admits. "But it would be rare." Zinov nods. "Yes. The stronger monsters¡ªthose that roam the great continents beyond ours¡ªthey have no reason to come here. This land holds nothing of value to them. No great treasures, no ancient artifacts, no resources worth fighting for." His eyes darken slightly. "For one to appear now... it''s strange." Rewalt''s jaw tightens. He doesn''t like unanswered questions. And right now, there are too many. "Keep an eye on this, Zinov," he orders. "I want to know exactly what we''re dealing with." Zinov inclines his head. "As you command, Your Majesty." The conversation ends, but the unease lingers. Because if a anyone from another continent has come to Valgros¡ªthen it came for a reason. ----- The journey to the Ordeya Kingdom''s capital is smooth, the roads well-maintained and patrolled by disciplined soldiers. The kingdom isn''t as militaristic as Valgros, but it is wealthier, its capital a testament to its prosperity. Alix and Grixx ride through the outer districts, passing through bustling trade streets filled with merchants hawking goods from across the continent. Spices, silk, enchanted trinkets¡ªthings one would never find in Raltheon in such abundance. The people are well-dressed, the buildings sturdier, and the roads paved with fine stone rather than packed dirt. Their current disguises are simple but effective. Alix wears a reinforced leather coat over a dark tunic, with a longsword strapped to his waist. Grixx, towering beside him, looks every bit the seasoned adventurer in his heavy, travel-worn armor. Though he carries no kingdom''s insignia, the way he moves¡ªsharp-eyed and ever watchful¡ªbetrays his experience as a warrior. The two blend in well enough. Ordeya''s capital has no shortage of adventurers, and unlike in Valgros or Raltheon, where armies dominate military affairs, adventurers here hold real status. The kingdom relies on them heavily for subjugation missions, exploration, and even reinforcing their borders when needed. They make their way to the Adventurers'' Guild, a massive three-story structure near the heart of the city. Its design is sturdy yet elegant, built of reinforced stone and polished wood. A large banner hangs over the entrance, bearing Ordeya''s guild emblem¡ªa golden falcon clutching twin swords. The doors are wide open, and the lively sounds of conversation, clinking mugs, and sharpening steel spill onto the street. As they step inside, the scent of alcohol, ink, and sweat fills the air. The guild hall is bustling. Dozens of adventurers crowd the area, some gathered around the mission board, others seated at long wooden tables sharing drinks and stories of their exploits. Some wear enchanted gear, while others sport battle scars as badges of honor. Alix exhales, scanning the guild hall. "Lively place," he mutters under his breath. They step further inside, weaving through the crowd. The adventurers here have a certain confidence¡ªsome from experience, others from sheer arrogance. Unlike in Raltheon, where adventurers are little more than mercenaries, or Valgros, where they are overshadowed by the military, Ordeya treats them with respect. A few eyes linger on them, but most dismiss them quickly. New faces aren''t uncommon here. Alix approaches the long wooden counter where several guild receptionists are stationed, managing the constant flow of requests and reports. A young woman with chestnut-colored hair and sharp green eyes greets him with a professional smile. "Welcome to the Ordeya Adventurers'' Guild. Here to take a request, or are you looking to register?" "Register," Alix says smoothly. "My partner and I just arrived in the capital." She nods, already pulling out a parchment form. "Got it. First-time registration requires a basic assessment. Name and background?" Alix doesn''t hesitate. "Aiden Vale. Swordsman. Former mercenary." Grixx, standing beside him, crosses his arms. "Garran. Heavy combat specialist." The receptionist gives them both an appraising look. "Experience?" Alix offers a relaxed shrug. "A few years in the field. Nothing fancy, but we get the job done." She hums in thought before handing them the parchment. "Fill this out. After that, you''ll need to complete an evaluation with one of our guild examiners. Standard procedure¡ªnothing too difficult unless you''re trying for a high rank right away." attain a high rank?" The receptionist smiles, clearly accustomed to such questions. "It''s simple. To rank up, you need to defeat a beast corresponding to the rank you''re aiming for. Our ranks are structured as follows: Bronze for Tier 1, Iron for Tier 2, Silver for Tier 3, Gold for Tier 4, and Adamantite for Tier 5. But first, we need to evaluate your current levels." She gestures to a side door. "If you''ll follow me, we''ll begin with your assessments." They follow her into a smaller chamber adjacent to the main hall. The room is sparsely furnished, dominated by a large, intricate crystal mounted on a pedestal¡ªthe guild''s appraisal artifact. The receptionist motions to Grixx. "Garran, if you would, please place your hand on the crystal. It will read your current level and abilities." Grixx steps forward, placing his hand on the cool surface. The crystal pulses with light, emitting a soft hum. After a moment, the light dims, and the receptionist consults a nearby gauge. Her eyes widen slightly. "Level 347. Impressive. It''s rare to see someone of Tier 3 strength registering for the first time." Grixx nods curtly, stepping back to allow Alix his turn. The receptionist turns her attention to Alix. "Aiden, your turn." Alix steps forward, placing his hand on the crystal. It reacts similarly, glowing softly before dimming. The receptionist checks the gauge again. Alix places his hand on the crystal, which emits a soft glow before dimming. The receptionist checks the gauge and her eyes widen in shock. "Level 400," she murmurs, astonished. Tier 4 adventurers are highly valued in the Ordeya Kingdom; such individuals often receive invitations from nobles and even the royal family to work for them. While some accept these offers, many prefer the independence of adventuring. She assumes Alix has recently broken through to Tier 4, given his current level. Chapter 86: Become An Adventurer Regaining her composure, she addresses Alix with newfound respect. "Sir, which rank are you aiming for?" Alix meets her gaze steadily. "Gold rank would be ideal." The receptionist internally balks at his ambition, considering it audacious for someone who likely just reached Tier 4 to aim for Gold rank immediately. However, maintaining professionalism, she replies, "Sir, you''ll need to wait a bit longer. Additionally, the guild master will personally oversee your evaluation." Alix nods, unfazed. "Understood. We''ll await further instructions." The receptionist gestures to a seating area. "Please make yourselves comfortable. We''ll notify you once everything is prepared." As Alix and Grixx move to the designated area, they notice several adventurers casting curious glances their way, undoubtedly intrigued. Shortly after Alix and Grixx take their seats, a hush falls over the bustling guild hall. Conversations cease, and all eyes turn toward the entrance as a tall, imposing figure steps inside. It''s the guild master, a man whose rare appearances are typically reserved for significant missions or the evaluation of Gold rank aspirants. The adventurers exchange astonished glances, their gazes inevitably drifting toward the two newcomers. The guild master strides purposefully toward Alix and Grixx, his presence commanding respect. He stops before them, his eyes assessing. "You''re the ones aiming for Gold rank?" he asks, his voice deep and authoritative. Alix rises, meeting the guild master''s gaze without hesitation. "Yes, I''m Aiden Vale, and this is Garran." The guild master nods slowly, his expression unreadable. "A Level 400 swordsman and a Level 347 heavy combat specialist. Impressive." Grixx inclines his head slightly. "We''ve faced our share of challenges." Murmurs ripple through the gathered adventurers, disbelief evident in their whispers. "Level 400?" "So that''s why the guild master is here." "Very well," he says. "We''ll proceed with your evaluation. Follow me." As they move toward the assessment chambers, the weight of the guild''s collective gaze follows them, a mix of curiosity, skepticism, and awe. After the guild master''s arrival, Alix and Grixx are escorted to a secluded evaluation chamber, ensuring the assessments remain confidential. The room is spacious, its stone walls bearing the marks of countless trials. At its center lies a reinforced arena, designed to contain formidable beasts. The guild master addresses them with authority. "Your evaluations will be conducted individually. Garran, you''re up first. Grixx nods, stepping into the arena with a composed demeanor. Moments later, a gate opposite him rises, revealing a Tier 3 beast¡ªa hulking creature with matted fur and razor-sharp claws, its eyes gleaming with primal aggression. The beast charges, and Grixx meets its assault head-on. He parries its swipes with his greatsword, each clash echoing through the chamber. To the untrained eye, it appears as a fierce struggle; Grixx staggers under the beast''s blows, his movements seemingly labored. Yet, beneath this facade, he''s meticulously controlling the fight, ensuring he neither overpowers the creature too swiftly nor exposes his true prowess. After a tense exchange, Grixx delivers a decisive strike, his blade finding the beast''s vital point. The creature collapses with a pained roar, and Grixx stands over it, breathing heavily as if exhausted. The guild master observes keenly, noting Grixx''s performance. "Well fought, Garran. You may step down. Grixx exits the arena, offering Alix a subtle nod. Alix acknowledges it before stepping forward. The guild master turns his attention to Alix. "Aiden, your trial awaits. As per our protocol, you''ll face a beast twenty levels higher than you levels¡ªa Level 420 adversary. Alix inclines his head. He enters the arena, the atmosphere thick with anticipation. The gate creaks open once more, and a massive creature emerges¡ªa serpentine beast with scales that shimmer like obsidian, its eyes burning with malevolent intelligence. The air crackles with energy as it hisses, revealing fangs dripping with venom. Without hesitation, the beast lunges, its movements a blur. Alix sidesteps gracefully, his sword already in motion. The clash is explosive; sparks fly as blade meets scale. Alix remains composed, his attacks precise, each movement calculated to exploit the creature''s weaknesses. The beast retaliates fiercely, its tail whipping around to strike. Alix anticipates the move, ducking under the swing and countering with an upward slash that leaves a deep gash along the creature''s side. The beast recoils, hissing in fury, and circles Alix, searching for an opening. Alix tightens his grip on his weapon. He decided to end this swiftly. Drawing upon his inner reserves, he channels his energy, feeling the familiar hum of power coursing through him. With a deep breath, Alix raises his sword high, the blade crackling as arcs of electricity dance along its edge. "Thunder Strike!" he calls out, his voice echoing through the chamber. He brings the sword down in a powerful arc, releasing a bolt of lightning that sears through the air, illuminating the room in a blinding flash. The lightning strikes the beast squarely, eliciting a deafening roar as the creature convulses, its muscles seizing under the electric assault. Smoke rises from its scorched scales, and for a moment, it teeters, its strength waning. Seizing the opportunity, Alix dashes forward, his movements a blur. He leaps into the air, bringing his sword down. The blade pierces the beast''s skull, driving deep into its brain. The creature shudders once, then collapses to the ground, lifeless. Alix withdraws his sword. He watches as the beast''s form begins to shimmer, its edges blurring. Within moments, the creature dissipates, vanishing like a mirage. The guild master steps forward, his expression unreadable. "Well done, Aiden," he says, his tone measured. "You''ve proven your skill against a formidable opponent." Alix nods. "Thank you, sir." The guild master gestures toward the now-empty arena. "As you may have noticed, the beast you faced was an illusion, conjured through advanced magic. We reserve real Tier 4 creatures for only the most critical evaluations, as they are rare and dangerous. Your performance against this simulated foe has been duly noted." Alix inclines his head in acknowledgment. "I understand." The guild master turns to address both Alix and Grixx. "Based on your performances, Garran I will grant you a silver rank, and Aiden I will grant you the Gold rank. However, be aware that this status comes with increased responsibilities and expectations. The challenges you will face henceforth will be perilous, and your conduct will reflect upon this guild." Chapter 87: Gold Rank Quest Alix steps forward, his expression solemn. "We accept these terms and will uphold the honor of the guild." The guild master nods approvingly. "Very well. Welcome to the Adventurers Guild." After completing his evaluation, Alix approaches the guild''s quest board, scanning the various postings. One particular notice catches his eye¡ªa special request from the royal family. The quest details a mission to eliminate an unknown entity that has been terrorizing nearby villages, having already destroyed two village. The description also notes that two Gold rank adventurers have perished attempting this task. Intrigued and undeterred, Alix removes the notice from the board and approaches the receptionist''s desk. "Excuse me," Alix begins, placing the quest notice on the counter. "I''d like to accept this mission." The receptionist glances at the notice, her eyes widening in surprise. "Sir, this quest is exceptionally perilous. Even seasoned Gold rank adventurers have..." "I understand the risks," Alix interjects calmly. The receptionist hesitates, concern evident in her expression. "But, sir, at Level 400, this mission..." Alix offers a reassuring smile. "I appreciate your concern. However, I am confident in my abilities." After a moment''s pause, the receptionist nods reluctantly. "Very well, sir. Please exercise extreme caution." "Thank you," Alix replies, accepting the quest documentation. Alix and Grixx arrive at the devastated village, the stench of death heavy in the air. Bodies lie scattered, many gruesomely mutilated. Ravenous beasts, drawn by the carnage, scavenge the remains. Alix surveys the scene, his expression stoic. "Stay alert, Grixx. We need to understand what did this." Grixx nods, his hand resting on his weapon. "Understood, Your majesty." They move through the village, noting the deep, clean lacerations on the victims. Some bodies are sliced into pieces, limbs severed with precision. Alix kneels beside a fallen villager, examining the wound. "These cuts... they''re too precise for beasts. This was done by something¡ªor someone¡ªwith skill." Grixx scans the surroundings, his posture tense. "Could it be bandits?" Alix shakes his head. "Unlikely. Bandits wouldn''t leave such clean wounds, nor would they decimate an entire village without taking valuables." He stands and approaches a nearby wall, where deep gashes mar the surface. The marks are uniform, as if made by a blade. Grixx observes the cuts. "Those resemble sword strikes." Alix nods thoughtfully. "Yes, and the strength required to cut through stone..." Grixx furrows his brow. "Your majesty, perhaps a beast or monster with blade-like appendages?" Alix and Grixx proceed cautiously, following the trail of destruction deeper into the forest. The signs of battle become more pronounced¡ªtrees cleaved in half, scorch marks searing the ground, and remnants of weapons scattered about. "These signs," Grixx observes, his voice low, "they suggest a fierce confrontation." Alix nods, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "Yes, and recent. The previous Gold rank adventurers must have fought valiantly." They continue until they reach the mouth of a cavern, its entrance partially obscured by overgrown foliage. The air is thick with an acrid scent, a mix of blood and something else¡ªsomething unnatural. "This must be where the battle concluded," Alix states, his tone measured. Grixx tightens his grip on his weapon. "I will lead the way, Your Majesty." Alix and Grixx proceed into the cavern, the air growing cooler with each step. Grixx raises his hand, summoning a luminous orb that bathes the cavern in bright light, dispelling the shadows around them. The passage narrows before opening into a larger chamber, where they spot a slumbering figure. The monster lies curled on the cold stone floor, its form both familiar and strange. Long, rabbit-like ears twitch occasionally atop a feline face, and beside it rests a katana, its blade gleaming even in the dim light. Alix narrows his eyes, whispering, "This monster... it seems familiar." At the sound of his voice, the monster''s eyes snap open, revealing a bloodshot gaze filled with fury. It scrambles to its feet, clutching the katana, and snarls, "Monsters! I''ll kill you all!" With a guttural cry, the monster lunges at them, katana slicing through the air. Grixx steps forward, raising his sword to parry the blow effortlessly. The clash of metal echoes through the cavern. Seizing the moment, Grixx delivers a swift kick to the creature''s midsection, sending it crashing into the cavern wall. The creature slumps to the ground, dazed but still conscious. Alix raises a hand, signaling Grixx to halt. His eyes narrow as he focuses on the creature before them. Through his system interface, he identifies the being''s race: Lagomian¡ªthe same as Liss and Nikon. Recognizing this, Alix deactivates his human disguise, revealing his true monstrous form. "You are a Lagomian," Alix states, his voice calm yet commanding. The Lagomian blinks in confusion, his red eyes flickering between Alix and Grixx. He watches as the human forms before him shift¡ªGrixx transforming into a formidable lizardman, and Alix into an indistinguishable yet awe-inspiring entity. An overwhelming aura emanates from Alix, compelling the Lagomian to feel an instinctual urge to submit. Struggling against this sensation, the Lagomian grips his katana tighter, his voice strained. "Monsters... leave. I... only want to kill humans." Observing the Lagomian''s unstable state, Alix concludes that reasoning is futile. He turns to Grixx and nods. "Render him unconscious." As a Tier 5 being, Grixx easily subdues the Tier 4 Lagomian. With swift precision, he strikes a pressure point, and the Lagomian collapses, his katana clattering to the ground beside him. Alix approaches the unconscious Lagomian, his expression contemplative. Activating his system interface, he examines the Lagomian''s status and discovers an ominous contract: a pact with the God of War. This agreement grants the individual double their original strength but at a dire cost¡ªthey lose all rationality and are compelled to kill fifteen people daily. Failure to meet this quota results in immediate death. Alix''s brow furrows as he absorbs this information. The concept of deities influencing mortals through such perilous contracts unsettles him. He ponders silently, ''Are there truly gods in this world? If so, how formidable are they?'' Shaking off these thoughts, he refocuses on the immediate situation. Chapter 88: Sumbrasth City Alix kneels beside the unconscious Lagomian, his gaze fixed on the afflicted warrior. From within his inventory, he retrieves the Magnius spellbound crystal¡ªa rare artifact capable of casting a Tier 8 severing spell. He hesitates, knowing that the crystal holds limited charges, and he has already used it twice. "This spell can break any contracts," Alix murmurs to himself, "but with only two uses remaining, I must be judicious." With a determined expression, Alix positions the crystal above the Lagomian and activates the crystal. Alix kneels beside the unconscious Lagomian, retrieving the Magnius spellbound crystal from his inventory. He hesitates momentarily, but resolves to proceed. Positioning the crystal above the Lagomian''s chest, he channels its energy toward the contract''s seal. The crystal emits a soft glow, and after a tense moment, the contract shatters like glass. The Lagomian stirs, his eyes fluttering open. "Who are you?" he murmurs, confusion evident in his gaze. Grixx steps forward, his voice firm. "This is His Majesty, the ruler of all monster clans, so you better behave yourself." Alix raises an eyebrow at Grixx''s introduction, thinking, ''Well, technically, I am a ruler of many monster races, but I wouldn''t claim to rule all races.'' He focuses on the Lagomian. "What is your name?" Alix asks gently. The Lagomian blinks, gathering his thoughts. "I... I''m called Berko." Alix observes as Berko''s eyes flutter open, the violent energy that once consumed him now dissipated. "Do you know why I saved you?" Alix inquires, his tone measured. "I even went so far as to sever your contract." Berko, still processing his newfound clarity, feels the absence of the oppressive force that once dictated his actions. He can''t help but marvel at the strength required to destroy such a binding agreement. Respectfully, he responds, "Thank you, sir, for saving my life. But I must ask, why did you save me?" Alix''s expression softens slightly. "In my kingdom, two Lagomian children have been adopted by one of my subordinates." Berko''s eyes widen with a mix of hope and urgency. "Sir, please, allow me to see these Lagomians. I''ve been searching for my tribesmates for years." Alix meets Berko''s gaze steadily. "If you wish to see them, it''s simple: become my subordinate and swear your loyalty to me." Without hesitation, Berko kneels, bowing his head. "I swear my loyalty to you, Your Majesty. Thank you for this opportunity." Alix nods approvingly. "Rise, then. For now, you''ll need to blend in among humans." He retrieves a small, ornate amulet from his belongings and hands it to Berko. "This item will disguise you as a human. Wear it at all times when among them." Berko accepts the amulet, slipping it over his head. Instantly, his Lagomian features transform into those of a typical human. He flexes his fingers, marveling at the illusion. Alix and Grixx also revert to their human disguises. Alix turns to Berko, his demeanor businesslike. "We must return to the Adventurers Guild. Unfortunately, we''ll report this mission as a failure." "Your Majesty," Berko begins respectfully, "we might not need to report this mission as a failure. There''s a Tier 4 mantis-like beast''s corpse here. Perhaps we can present this as proof of the threat''s elimination." Alix''s eyes follow Berko''s gesture to the creature''s remains. A slow smile spreads across his face. "Excellent idea, Berko," Alix replies, nodding appreciatively. "This way, my first quest won''t end in failure." Grixx steps forward, examining the beast''s carcass. "It appears formidable enough to account for the village''s destruction," he observes. Alix turns to his companions. "Let''s prepare the evidence and return to the Adventurers Guild. With this, our mission is complete." Upon returning to the Adventurers Guild, Alix approaches the reception desk, where the receptionist''s eyes widen in surprise. She had harbored doubts about his survival. "Sir Aiden," she begins hesitantly, "are you here to report the failure of your quest¡ª" Her words trail off as Berko steps forward, unshouldering the large, wrapped bundle he has been carrying. With a swift motion, he unveils the carcass of the mantis-like beast, its formidable form drawing gasps from those nearby. One of the adventurers seated nearby stands abruptly, pointing at the creature. "That-that beast is a tier 4 beast!" As Alix presents the carcass of the Tier 4 mantis-like beast at the Adventurers Guild, a hush falls over the room. Adventurers and staff alike are visibly astonished, especially considering that two Gold-rank adventurers had previously failed to complete this quest. One of them, a veteran at level 434, had even lost his life attempting to subdue the creature. The receptionist, regaining her composure, addresses Alix with newfound respect. "Sir Aiden, your accomplishment is truly remarkable. This quest had escalated from Silver to Gold rank due to its difficulty, and many feared it would soon require Adamantite-level intervention." Murmurs ripple through the guild hall as adventurers discuss the implications. "I heard they were considering assigning this as a special quest," one whispers. "With only one Adamantite groups in the kingdom, it''s fortunate Sir Aiden succeeded when he did," another adds. Alix acknowledges the receptionist''s commendation with a modest nod. "The threat has been neutralized, and the villages can now begin to rebuild in safety." As word of Alix''s success spreads, the atmosphere in the guild shifts from one of tension to relief and celebration. Adventurers approach to congratulate him, inspired by his achievement and the restoration of safety to their realm. As Alix, Grixx, and Berko leave the Adventurers Guild in the city of Sumbrasth, the weight of recent events hangs heavy in the air. Berko walks a step behind Alix, his thoughts a turbulent. Under the influence of the contract, he had unleashed destruction upon multiple villages. Yet, even now, free from its binds, he feels no remorse for the humans who suffered, his hatred for them deeply rooted in the atrocities they committed against his tribesmates. The trio arrives at the ''Silver Chalice Inn'', a modest establishment known for its discreet clientele. As they enter, the innkeeper, a stout woman with graying hair, looks up and offers a welcoming smile. Chapter 89: Temple Of The War God "Welcome, good sir," she greets Alix warmly. "Will you be needing rooms for your companions as well?" Alix nods. "Yes, please, three rooms for the night." As the innkeeper hands over the keys, she leans in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You must be sir Aiden, word travels fast in Sumbrasth. They say you single-handedly took down a Tier 4 beast that''s been terrorizing the villages." Alix offers a modest smile. "News does seem to have wings in this city." The innkeeper chuckles. "Indeed. If you need anything, just let me know." As they make their way to their rooms, Grixx glances at Alix, a smirk playing on his lips. "Your majesty, it seems like you''re the talk of Sumbrasth now." Alix sighs softly. "Fame is a double-edged sword. Let''s hope it doesn''t draw unwanted attention." Berko, silent until now, speaks up, his voice tinged with bitterness. "Humans celebrate the death of a beast, yet they are blind to the monsters among their own kind." Alix pauses, turning to face Berko. "Hatred is a heavy burden to carry, Berko. Not all humans are the same." Berko''s eyes harden. "Perhaps. But forgiveness doesn''t come easily when one''s kin have suffered." After settling into their rooms at the Silver Chalice Inn, Alix invites Berko to join him in his quarters. The room is modest but comfortable. Grixx, sensing the need for a private conversation, excuses himself. Alix gestures to a chair opposite him. "Please, sit. I''d like to understand how you came to be bound by the War God contract." Berko settles into the chair, his expression somber. "After the humans attacked our home, I managed to flee," he begins, his voice heavy with emotion. "But surviving when my family and tribesmates perished or getting abducted filled me with unbearable guilt." He pauses, collecting his thoughts. "I wandered aimlessly through the forest, lost in my grief. Days, perhaps weeks passed; time had little meaning. Then, I stumbled upon an ancient altar, overgrown and forgotten. The inscription read ''God of War''." Berko continues, his voice tinged with reverence. "Beside the altar, I discovered a Tier 4 skill book. Its pages seemed to pulse with power, and I felt an inexplicable pull to read it." Alix leans forward, curiosity piqued. "A Tier 4 skills book? That''s a rare find. Did you read it?" Berko nods slowly. "Yes, I did. As I absorbed its knowledge, I felt a surge of strength and clarity. It was as if the book unlocked potential I never knew I had, elevating me to a Tier 4 warrior." Alix considers this, tapping his fingers thoughtfully. "And the altar? Did it have any other significance?" Berko''s expression darkens. "In my grief and desire for vengeance, I made a vow before it, seeking the strength to avenge my fallen kin." Alix''s eyes narrow slightly. "And that''s when the contract bound you?" Berko sighs, a hint of regret in his eyes. "Yes. Unbeknownst to me, my vow forged a contract with the God of War. It granted me immense power, but at the cost of my free will. I became an instrument of war, driven by an insatiable rage." Alix leans back, absorbing Berko''s tale. "It''s fortunate we crossed paths, then. With the contract severed, you have a chance to reclaim your destiny." Berko meets Alix''s gaze, gratitude evident. "I owe you my freedom, Your Majesty. I pledge to use my strength to serve you." Alix leans forward, his interest piqued. "Do you remember where that altar is located?" Berko nods. "Yes, Your Majesty. I can lead you there." Alix''s eyes narrow thoughtfully. "Tomorrow, we shall visit it together." Berko''s expression reflects a mix of surprise and determination. "As you command, Your Majesty." The following morning, as dawn''s light filters through the forest canopy, Alix, Berko, and Grixx set out toward the ancient altar. The forest is dense, with undergrowth that crunches beneath their boots and the distant calls of birds echoing through the trees. Berko leads the way, his movements confident yet cautious. After traversing the forest for several hours, they arrive at a clearing where the altar stands, partially reclaimed by nature. Vines drape over its weathered stone, and moss carpets its base. Alix approaches the altar, his gaze tracing the faint inscriptions that hint at its ancient purpose. He turns to Berko. "This is where you found the Tier 4 skills book?" Berko nods, his eyes reflecting memories of that pivotal moment. "Yes, Your Majesty. Right here." Grixx circles the altar, his keen eyes scanning the surroundings. "This place... it feels like it''s been untouched for centuries." Alix places a hand on the altar''s surface, closing his eyes as if sensing the remnants of its power. "There''s a lingering energy here. It''s faint, but present." Berko watches Alix, curiosity evident. "What do you intend to do, Your Majesty?" Alix opens his eyes, determination gleaming within them. "I aim to understand the nature of this altar and the forces it once channeled. Such knowledge could prove invaluable." As dawn''s light filters through the dense canopy, Alix, Berko, and Grixx navigate the forest''s undergrowth, their senses heightened for any sign of the ancient altar. The forest is alive with the chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves underfoot. "Stay vigilant," Alix instructs, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "Report anything unusual immediately." After some time, Berko halts, his gaze fixed on a section of overgrown foliage. "Your Majesty, I believe I''ve found something," he calls out, pointing to what appears to be a concealed door, its outline barely discernible beneath the vines. Alix and Grixx exchange a glance, both sensing the faint hum of a defensive spell emanating from the hidden entrance. Before they can react, Berko steps closer, his hand reaching out to touch the door. "Berko, wait!" Alix warns, but Grixx is already in motion. With a burst of speed, he uses his Tier 5 ability to position himself between Berko and the door in an instant. The defensive spell activates, releasing a surge of energy that strikes Grixx. He grits his teeth, absorbing the impact, but a shallow cut appears on his cheek, a testament to the spell''s potency. Chapter 90: Fire Golem Berko''s eyes widen in realization of the danger he narrowly avoided. "Thank you, Sir Grixx," he says, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. Grixx nods, wiping the blood from his cheek. "Be more cautious. Not all dangers are visible." Alix steps forward, examining the door and the remnants of the spell. "This enchantment was designed to deter intruders." Alix approaches the concealed door, his eyes narrowing as he senses the remnants of a powerful defensive spell. Despite its deterioration over time, the enchantment still exudes an aura potent enough to harm even a Tier 5 individual. "This must have been a Tier 6 spell," Alix muses aloud, his tone reflecting both admiration and caution. "Though it''s weakened over time, it''s still formidable." Grixx nods in agreement. "Your majesty It''s impressive that such an old spell retains this much power." Alix closes his eyes momentarily, accessing his inventory. He searches for an item capable of neutralizing or dispelling high-level enchantments. After a brief pause, he opens his eyes, a hint of satisfaction playing across his features. "I have just the thing," he announces. Reaching into his cloak, he retrieves a small, intricately carved stone¡ªthe Nullifying Keystone. Berko''s eyes lock onto the Nullifying Keystone. Though unfamiliar with such an item, he''s astounded that Alix possesses an item capable of dismantling a powerful enchantment. "This is the Nullifying Keystone," Alix explains, holding the intricately carved stone aloft. "It''s designed to neutralize enchantments." Alix steps closer to the concealed door, the keystone in hand. "Stand back. Once activated, the keystone will emit a field that disrupts magical energies." Berko and Grixx retreat a few paces, watching intently. Alix presses the keystone against the door''s surface, and the stone begins to glow softly. A low hum fills the air as the keystone''s energy interacts with the lingering enchantment. Moments later, the hum subsides, and the faint aura surrounding the door dissipates. Alix withdraws the keystone, now dimmed. "The enchantment is nullified. We can proceed." Berko steps forward, his expression a mix of awe and gratitude. "Your resourcefulness never ceases to amaze, Your Majesty." The ancient wood creaks open, revealing a spacious chamber bathed in an eerie, flickering light. The walls are adorned with faded murals depicting long-forgotten battles, and the air is thick with the scent of sulfur. Suddenly, the ground trembles. From the center of the chamber, molten rock begins to pool and rise, taking shape into a towering figure¡ªa fire golem, its body ablaze with roaring flames. Its eyes, glowing like molten lava, fixate on the intruders. "Intruders detected. Eliminate intruders," the golem''s voice resonates, a deep rumble echoing through the chamber. Grixx instinctively steps forward, hand on his weapon. Alix raises a hand, his expression resolute. "No, Grixx. This one''s mine." He steps forward, eyes locked onto the fiery behemoth. Berko''s eyes widen with concern. "But, Your Majesty, that''s a Tier 5 golem! Your current strength is at Tier 4. This could be perilous." A determined smile tugs at Alix''s lips. "Precisely. It''s time to test my mettle against a true adversary." [Titan''s Strength]: Muscles bulge as immense power courses through him. [Celestial Agility]: His form becomes a blur, movements swift and precise. [Adamantine Skin]: A metallic sheen envelops his body, enhancing his defenses. [Arcane Surge]: His mana reserves swell, amplifying his magical prowess. [Phantom Reflex]: His senses heighten, anticipating the golem''s every move. [Eagle''s Eye]: Vision sharpens, focusing on the golem''s vulnerabilities. [Shadow Step]: His steps become light, allowing for unparalleled mobility. [Warrior''s Resolve]: Stamina replenishes rapidly, ensuring sustained combat. [Stormborn Affinity]: Lightning crackles around him, infusing his attacks with electric energy. [Infernal Wrath]: Flames dance along his blade, increasing its destructive potential. [Glacial Endurance]: An inner cold stabilizes his core, granting resistance to extreme heat. The amalgamation of these buffs causes Alix to radiate a brilliant light, his presence both awe-inspiring and intimidating. Berko watches in astonishment, his earlier concern morphing into admiration. "Eleven Tier 4 buffs... Incredible." Grixx, usually stoic, allows a smirk. "Even with His Majesty''s full strength sealed, he''s still as impressive as ever." The fire golem roars, molten fists crashing down toward Alix. But with [Rift Step], Alix vanishes, reappearing behind the golem. His blade, now imbued with [Infernal Wrath], slices through the air. "[Blazing Arc]!" A fiery crescent cleaves into the golem''s molten form, sending embers flying. The golem staggers but retaliates with a sweeping, flaming arm. Alix counters with [Glacial Spikes], summoning icy protrusions from the ground that intercept the attack, steam hissing as fire meets ice. Seizing the moment, Alix channels [Thunder Chain], lightning arcing from his blade to the golem, causing its fiery form to convulse. He follows up with [Phantom Blade], his sword striking with such speed that it becomes a blur, slicing through the golem''s defenses. The fire golem''s molten eyes narrow, recognizing the formidable opponent before it. With a guttural roar, it charges, each step leaving scorched imprints on the stone floor. Drawing upon his vast repertoire of skills, Alix initiates his assault. "[Spectral Onslaught]!" he commands, his blade phasing into an ethereal state. He darts forward, delivering a flurry of strikes that bypass the golem''s fiery exterior, targeting its core essence. The golem recoils, its form flickering as it attempts to stabilize. Not giving it a moment''s respite, Alix channels his mana into the ground. "[Earthen Grasp]!" The stone beneath the golem liquefies and morphs into massive hands that latch onto its legs, anchoring it in place. The golem struggles, flames intensifying as it tries to free itself. Seizing the opportunity, Alix raises his free hand skyward. "[Meteoric Descent]!" A luminous orb materializes above, growing rapidly before plummeting toward the ensnared golem. The impact is catastrophic, engulfing the creature in an explosion of light and heat. As the brilliance fades, the golem emerges, cracks spiderwebbing across its molten form. Its movements become erratic, desperation evident in its attacks. It gathers its strength, launching a torrent of fireballs toward Alix. With unwavering focus, Alix invokes "[Aegis of the Void]!" A dark barrier envelops him, absorbing the fiery onslaught. The flames dissipate upon contact, leaving him unscathed. Chapter 91: Fire Golem The fire golem''s molten form shudders, its eyes blazing brighter as it summons its ultimate power. The temperature in the chamber skyrockets, and the air ripples with intense heat. With a guttural roar, the golem unleashes its Tier 5 skill: [Inferno Cataclysm]. A massive wave of searing flames erupts from the golem, expanding rapidly in all directions. The very stone beneath their feet begins to crack and sizzle under the onslaught. Grixx''s eyes widen as he recognizes the imminent danger. Without hesitation, he steps in front of Berko, planting his feet firmly. Drawing upon his inner reserves, Grixx activates his sole Tier 5 skill: [Ironclad Barrier]. An immense, translucent shield materializes before them, anchoring into the ground and curving protectively around their forms. The inferno crashes against Grixx''s shield, flames licking and swirling around its edges. Behind him, Berko watches in awe and terror, the heat palpable even through the protective shield. Meanwhile, Alix stands his ground, eyes narrowing as the fiery wave approaches. He raises his sword, channeling his energy into two defensive Tier 4 skills. "[Infernal Barrier]" he commands, and a shimmering barrier of golden flames envelops him, countering the oncoming heat with its own purifying fire. Simultaneously, Alix stomps the ground, invoking "[Earth''s Embrace]!" The earth responds, forming a protective cocoon of stone around him. The inferno crashes over this dual-layered defense, the outer flames warring against each other while the stone absorbs the residual heat. After what feels like an eternity, the [Inferno Cataclysm] subsides. The chamber is left scorched and smoldering, the air thick with heat and ash. Grixx''s shield dissipates. The stone encasing Alix crumbles away, revealing him unscathed. He steps forward, eyes locked onto the now-weakened golem. "Impressive display," Alix remarks, his tone calm yet firm. "But it''s time to end this." Channeling his remaining strength, Alix dashes toward the golem, his sword gleaming with accumulated power. With a swift, decisive strike, he cleaves through the golem''s core. The creature shudders, its molten form destabilizing before collapsing into a pool of inert lava. As the remnants of the fire golem dissipate, the chamber''s oppressive heat begins to wane. Berko stands in stunned silence, his mind racing. The sheer number of Tier 4 skills His Majesty just employed... he muses, Could it be that His Majesty possesses more Tier 4 skills than any of the the three kingdoms? A chilling thought crosses Berko''s mind. If the extent of His Majesty''s prowess becomes known, the three kingdoms might set aside their differences, forming a temporary alliance to challenge him. Berko steps forward, his voice filled with awe. "Your Majesty, you''re truly remarkable. Defeating a Tier 5 golem while at Tier 4 strength is nothing short of extraordinary." Alix chuckles softly, sheathing his sword. "That golem was already losing energy and not at its full strength. Its power had waned over time." Grixx approaches, his expression a blend of respect and curiosity. "Even so, Your Majesty, your mastery and the seamless execution of multiple Tier 4 skills are unparalleled. Few could replicate such a feat." As the fire golem collapses into a pool of molten rock, the chamber begins to tremble violently. Dust and debris fall from the ceiling, and the walls crack ominously. "Your Majesty, the structure is collapsing!" Grixx shouts, urgency in his voice. Alix''s gaze shifts to the golem''s remains. Amidst the cooling lava, he spots a faint glimmer. Quickly, he retrieves a scorched tome¡ªa skill book¡ªand the golem''s core, still pulsing with residual heat. "These might be of use," Alix mutters, securing the items. "Your Majesty, we must leave now!" Berko exclaims, eyes wide with alarm. Alix nods, his expression calm yet determined. "Agreed. Let''s move." The trio dashes toward the exit, navigating falling stones and widening fissures. The ground shakes beneath them, each tremor more violent than the last. As the trio emerges from the collapsing chamber, the ground beneath them quakes violently. They turn to witness the War God''s altar sinking into the earth, swallowed whole until it vanishes without a trace, as if it never existed. Alix retrieves the scorched tome he had secured earlier. Flipping through its charred pages, he recognizes it as a Tier 5 skill book. A sigh escapes his lips. "It''s a tier 5 skill book," he mutters, his tone tinged with mild disappointment. Berko notices Alix''s reaction and inquires, "Your Majesty, is something amiss?" Alix extends the book toward Berko. "Here, take it. It''s a Tier 5 skill book." Berko''s eyes widen in shock. He instinctively steps back, shaking his head. "Your Majesty, I can''t accept this. It''s too valuable, and I contributed nothing to this battle." Alix''s gaze is steady, his voice firm yet understanding. "Nonsense. Take it. I suspect this skill aligns with the Tier 4 one you acquired earlier. It will complement your abilities." Berko hesitates, but seeing the resolve in Alix''s eyes, he reluctantly accepts the tome. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I am deeply grateful." Alix offers a dismissive wave. "Think nothing of it. It''s merely a Tier 5 skill book." Berko forces a smile, though internally he grapples with the weight of the gift. In the three kingdoms, such a skill book is a priceless treasure, unobtainable even, how much gold coins you have. Yet, to His Majesty, it appears as a trivial item. Reflecting on his own stagnation in recent times, Berko feels a surge of hope. With this skill book, he envisions breaking through his current limits, advancing his prowess to new heights. In this world, natives like Berko must diligently study skill books to ascend in power. Mere physical training isn''t sufficient; a profound comprehension of the skill''s elemental nature is essential. For instance, a mage specializing in fire magic must deeply understand the fire element to truly master their craft. Each skill book embodies a specific element, guiding the practitioner''s focus. Consequently, most individuals dedicate themselves to a singular specialty. Alix, however, is an anomaly. As a player, he possesses the unique ability to wield any skill or spell, unrestricted by elemental constraints. This versatility is largely attributed to his unconventional build. Chapter 92: The Unknown Abyss Grixx, observing the exchange, comments, "Your Majesty''s generosity knows no bounds. Berko, with this new skill, I''m certain you''ll reach unprecedented levels." Berko nods, determination gleaming in his eyes. "I won''t squander this opportunity. I''ll strive to become a warrior worthy of standing by His Majesty''s side." ---- Alix strides into the bustling Adventurers'' Guild of Sumbrasth City, the air thick with the hum of conversations and the clinking of armor. His alias, Aiden, has gained recognition among the adventurers over the past few days. Approaching the quest board, he scans the parchments for new challenges. The attendant, noticing Alix''s interest, steps forward. "Morning, Aiden. Looking for work?" Alix nods, his eyes still on the board. "Yes, anything notable today?" The attendant said. "Well, there''s talk of a significant quest coming up. The Ordeya Kingdom is preparing to call upon all capable adventurers to combat beasts emerging from the northern crevice. It''s a massive undertaking, happens every three months or so." Alix''s interest piques, though he maintains a casual demeanor. "Sounds challenging. Any idea when this quest will be posted?" "Should be any day now," the attendant replies. "Keep an eye out; the rewards are substantial, but the dangers are equally great." Alix offers a grateful nod. "Thanks for the heads-up. I''ll be ready." Over the next few days, Alix continues to accept smaller quests, building his reputation and awaiting the announcement. Then, one morning, the guild hall buzzes with heightened activity. A large notice adorns the central board, bearing the royal seal of Ordeya. The guild master addresses the gathered adventurers. "Attention! The Ordeya Kingdom officially requests aid to repel the beasts from the northern crevice. All willing and able adventurers are urged to participate. Sign-ups begin immediately." Alix steps forward, determination in his eyes. "Count me in." The guild master nods approvingly. "Good to have you, Aiden. May fortune favor you in the battles ahead." As Alix signs his name, he reflects on his true purpose in Ordeya. Alix, Grixx, and Berko approaches the northern crevice¡ªa gaping chasm that seems to breathe malevolence. Around them, adventurers mill about, some nodding in acknowledgment, while others, particularly the Tier 4 elites, barely spare them a glance. Berko observes the dismissive attitudes and murmurs, "Seems our fellow gold rank aren''t too impressed, huh?" Alix''s gaze remains fixed on the crevice, its depths obscured by darkness. "This fissure... it''s like a gateway to the abyss." A nearby gold rank adventurer, overhearing, interjects, "Aiden, right? First time at the crevice?" Alix nods, turning to face the speaker. "Yes." The adventurer, a seasoned warrior by the looks of his scarred armor, offers a grim smile. "Be prepared. The beasts here are relentless." Berko steps forward, curiosity evident. "Do we know why the beasts keep emerging?" The warrior shakes his head. "No one knows for sure." Grixx frowns. "Has anyone attempted to explore its depths?" "A few have tried," the warrior replies, "but none returned." Alix''s eyes narrow thoughtfully. "Perhaps it''s time someone did." The warrior chuckles, though there''s no humor in it. "If you''re that eager, be my guest." As the adventurers gather near the ominous northern crevice, a palpable tension fills the air. Conversations hush abruptly as a figure descends from above, hovering with an aura of authority. It''s Marshal Medren, the sole marshal of the Ordeya Kingdom and a renowned Tier 5 warrior. His presence commands immediate respect, and silence envelops the assembly. Marshal Medren''s voice resonates powerfully across the field. "As always, our mission is straightforward: eliminate every beast that emerges from this crevice. All loot obtained is yours to keep, and the kingdom offers to purchase any spoils you wish to sell. I will remain here to confront any Tier 5 beasts that may appear. Good luck to all." Alix, under his alias Aiden, discreetly activates his system to assess Medren''s capabilities. The display reveals: [Name: Medren Level: 543 Tier 5 warrior] Impressed by Medren''s formidable level, Alix murmurs to himself, "Level 543... Quite the powerhouse." As the adventurers brace themselves near the northern crevice, an oppressive aura suddenly emanates from its depths, sending a shiver through the ranks. Even Alix''s expression hardens momentarily before the sensation dissipates as swiftly as it arose. Without warning, a horde of beasts surges from the chasm, their roars echoing across the battlefield. Alix, Grixx, and Berko engage the oncoming creatures with practiced efficiency, each movement precise and controlled. Under Alix''s directive, they conserve their strength, dispatching foes methodically without overexertion. As they fight, the trio gradually advances toward the crevice''s edge, their calculated progression drawing the attention of nearby gold-ranked adventurers. Misinterpreting their approach as reckless bravado, some observers exchange disdainful glances, perceiving Alix''s group as showboating. A burly swordsman sneers, "Look at them, acting like they''re invincible." A mage beside him scoffs, "They''ll get themselves killed showing off like that." Suddenly the intensity of the beast onslaught surges, adventurers find themselves fully engaged, battling fiercely to hold the line. Amidst the chaos, Alix senses an opportunity. "Grixx, Berko, close in," Alix commands, his voice cutting through the clamor. The two comply without hesitation, forming up beside him. From within his cloak, Alix produces a small, intricately carved stone¡ªa rare item known as the Veilstone. This powerful item grants temporary invisibility, rendering the user undetectable even to beings of Tier 6. "Hold still," Alix instructs, activating the Veilstone. A soft hum resonates as a translucent shimmer envelops the trio before fading, leaving them invisible to all around. "Incredible," Berko whispers, marveling at the effect. "Stay focused," Grixx murmurs. "We have a mission." Under the cloak of invisibility, they maneuver through the battlefield, deftly avoiding clashes and slipping past occupied adventurers. The sounds of combat¡ªclashing steel, roaring beasts, and shouted commands¡ªcreate a chaotic symphony that masks their movements. As they approach the crevice''s edge, the ground trembles beneath their feet, and a noxious heat emanates from the abyss. Peering into the darkness, Alix signals for them to proceed. One by one, they descend into the unknown, leaving the tumultuous battle above as they venture into the depths of the crevice. Chapter 93: Astral Bloom As Alix, Grixx, and Berko descend into the crevice, the tumultuous sounds of battle above fade, replaced by an eerie silence. Their invisibility cloaks them in a veil of undetectability, allowing them to observe without interference. The walls of the crevice, jagged and foreboding, give way to a surprising sight¡ªa vast subterranean expanse stretches before them, illuminated by bioluminescent flora casting a soft, ethereal glow. Towering trees with luminescent leaves dot the landscape, their roots intertwining with the cracked, barren ground. The air is thick with humidity, and the distant calls of unseen creatures echo through the cavern. Despite the alien environment, the trio recognizes familiar beasts scaling the walls toward the surface, confirming they are still within the same crevice. Berko''s eyes widen in awe. "This place... it''s like an entirely different world hidden beneath our feet." Grixx nods, his gaze scanning the surroundings warily. "Yet, it''s unsettling. We''ve encountered no Tier 5 beasts so far." Alix, ever observant, remarks, "Perhaps they dwell deeper within, or this area serves a different purpose." They proceed cautiously, their footsteps silent against the uneven terrain. The beasts, oblivious to their presence due to the Veilstone''s power, move with singular purpose toward the surface, paying no heed to the intruders. As they venture deeper into the subterranean expanse, Alix, Grixx, and Berko encounter a formidable Tier 5 beast¡ªa massive, armored creature with eyes gleaming like molten lava. The surrounding area is eerily devoid of other beasts, suggesting this guardian''s dominance. Alix narrows his eyes, observing the beast''s vigilant stance. "It''s guarding something," he murmurs. Activating his system interface, he scans the vicinity and detects a faint, pulsating energy signature beneath the creature''s position. His eyes widen in recognition. He thought. ''The Astral Bloom... In my previous life, I never managed to acquire it. Those who possessed it demanded exorbitant sums of real money.'' Grixx tightens his grip on his weapon, his gaze fixed on the beast. "Your orders, Your Majesty?" Alix''s expression hardens with determination. "We need that Astral Bloom. Grixx, take down the beast. Berko, support him. I''ll secure the ingredient." Grixx nods, a fierce grin spreading across his face. "Understood." He charges forward, weapon gleaming in the bioluminescent light. The beast roars, meeting his challenge head-on. Berko flanks the creature, launching precise attacks to distract and weaken it. Their coordinated assault showcases their training and camaraderie. Seizing the moment, Alix darts toward the spot where the Astral Bloom''s energy resonates. With practiced movements, he uncovers the radiant, star-shaped flower, its petals shimmering with an otherworldly glow. He carefully extracts it, feeling a surge of accomplishment. Behind him, Grixx delivers a decisive blow, and the beast collapses with a final, echoing growl. He turns to Alix, breathing heavily but victorious. "The path is clear, Your Majesty." Alix secures the Astral Bloom within a protective casing. "Well done, both of you." As they venture deeper into the subterranean expanse, Alix, Grixx, and Berko encounter several Tier 5 beasts, each guarding various treasures¡ªglimmering gemstones, ancient artifacts, and weapons. Among these, a particular Tier 5 sword catches Berko''s eye; its blade hums with latent power, and intricate runes adorn its hilt. Although Berko doesn''t recognize what the Astral Bloom is, he knows it must be something extraordinary. After all, he''s never seen His Majesty this pleased before. Alix hardly reacts to obtaining Tier 5 skills or spells, yet this flower seems to hold incredible value. Berko steps closer, watching Alix carefully seal the Astral Bloom in a protective case. "Your Majesty," he says hesitantly, "that flower... what is it exactly?" Alix glances at him, still smiling. "The final ingredient." "Ingredient?" Berko frowns. "For what?" "For something powerful," Alix replies vaguely. "You''ll see soon enough." Berko doesn''t press further. If Alix isn''t explaining, there''s a reason. Whatever that flower''s purpose, it''s clearly far more valuable than any skill or treasure they''ve found before. As they continue exploring, they encounter more Tier 5 beasts ¡ª powerful, relentless creatures. Each one fiercely guards a treasure or rare artifact. Despite the variety of valuables they recover, none seem to excite Alix like the Astral Bloom. However, one particular discovery stuns Berko ¡ª a Tier 5 sword, its polished silver blade lined with intricate golden runes. The weapon hums faintly with magical energy, its aura both oppressive and awe-inspiring. Berko stares at it in disbelief. "That''s..." He swallows hard. "There''s no more than one Tier 5 sword in the entire Ordeya Kingdom." Alix steps forward, picks up the sword, and without hesitation, turns to Berko. "It''s yours." Berko freezes. "Wait... what?" "You heard me," Alix says casually, tossing the sword to him. "Take it." Berko barely catches it, feeling the weight of the weapon in his hands. "But... this sword... This is priceless!" Alix shrugs. "I''ve already found what I needed. That sword will serve you better than it will me." Alix continue, "I''m not giving it away," Alix says firmly. "I''m investing in my people ¡ª in you. You''ve earned it." Berko grips the sword tightly, still stunned. "I won''t waste this," he says, voice filled with conviction. "I''ll make sure this sword is put to good use." As Alix, Grixx, and Berko navigate the labyrinthine passages of the subterranean expanse, the ambient glow of bioluminescent flora casts shifting shadows along the walls. The air is thick with moisture, and the distant drip of water echoes through the place. Suddenly, without warning, dark figures emerge from the shadows, moving with lethal grace. These are the Umbral Stalkers, a race renowned for their assassination skills. Standing at about six feet tall, their humanoid forms are cloaked in dark, chitinous exoskeletons that absorb light, rendering them nearly invisible in dim environments. Their elongated limbs end in razor-sharp claws, and their faces are devoid of eyes, replaced by a series of sensory pits that detect heat and movement. The Umbral Stalkers launch their assault, aiming for vital points with precision. Despite their Tier 4 status, their coordinated attack poses a significant threat. Grixx reacts swiftly, his Tier 5 prowess evident as he parries and counters with formidable strength. Chapter 94: Umbral Race Berko, wielding his newly acquired Tier 5 sword, matches Grixx''s movements, the blade slicing through the air with lethal accuracy. Alix, maintaining composure, channels protective wards to shield his comrades from the onslaught. Amidst the clash, Grixx identifies the leader of the assailants¡ªa slightly larger Umbral Stalker issuing silent commands. With a decisive maneuver, Grixx disarms and subdues the leader, pinning it to the ground. "Hold still," Grixx growls, tightening his grip. The remaining Umbral Stalkers, witnessing their leader''s capture, retreat into the shadows, their forms melding seamlessly with the darkness. Alix approaches the captive, his eyes narrowing. "We mean you no harm unless provoked. Why did you attack us?" The creature''s voice hisses through the magical translation. "Intruders... in our domain... must be eliminated." Alix steps forward, his gaze cold and calculating. "Tell me where your people reside," he demands. "Cooperate, and I may spare your life." The Umbral Stalker hisses defiantly, its voice a raspy whisper. "Kill me if you must. I will reveal nothing." Instead of anger, a thoughtful expression crosses Alix''s face. "Very well," he says calmly. "We will explore this place until we find your base. Perhaps then, your kin will be more forthcoming." The creature''s defiance wavers for a moment, but it remains silent, unwilling to betray its kind. Grixx tightens his grip on the captive. "What shall we do with this one, Your Majesty?" Alix considers briefly before responding. "Bind him. He may prove useful as a guide¡ªor a bargaining chip." Berko produces restraints, securing the Umbral Stalker''s limbs. The creature offers no resistance, its expression inscrutable. With their new captive in tow, the trio continues their journey, determined to uncover the secrets of the Umbral Stalkers'' domain. Alix, Grixx, and Berko continue their cautious exploration of the subterranean expanse. Suddenly, without warning, two massive figures emerge from the shadows ahead. Standing over eight feet tall. Recognizing them as Tier 5 Umbral Stalkers, Alix and Grixx ready their weapons, while Berko positions himself protectively near their captive. Alix''s mind races as he begins to channel his eleven Tier 4 buffs, knowing he cannot face a Tier 5 opponent without them. However, his adversary lunges with blinding speed, forcing Alix to prioritize defense. He manages to activate eight buffs before narrowly evading a sweeping claw strike. Rolling to the side, he completes the remaining enchantments, feeling the surge of augmented strength and agility course through him. The Umbral Stalker hisses, its eyeless visage turning toward Alix. "Your skills won''t save you trash." it snarls, voice dripping with malice. Alix grips his weapon tighter, eyes narrowing. "We''ll see about that." The creature attacks again, its claws slicing through the air with lethal precision. Alix parries and counters. Despite the Stalker''s ferocity, Alix''s enhanced abilities allow him to match its speed and strength. Meanwhile, Grixx engages the second Umbral Stalker, their battle a blur of steel and shadow. His combat prowess is evident as he anticipates and counters each move with calculated efficiency. The Umbral Stalker lunges, a blur of blackened muscle and jagged claws. Alix sidesteps, his blade flashing upward to deflect the strike. Sparks explode from the impact. Without hesitation, Alix channels a Tier 4 spell ¡ª Pyre Lance. A spear of searing flame erupts from his free hand, streaking toward the creature''s chest. The Stalker twists impossibly fast, avoiding a fatal hit, but the flame scorches its side. It roars, dark tendrils of energy crackling from its wounds. "You think that''s enough?" The Stalker sneers, its guttural voice distorted. "I''ll crush you." "Try," Alix growls back, dashing forward. He weaves between the Stalker''s swiping claws, his blade dancing with precision. Each strike he lands crackles with enchantment ¡ª ice blooms along the creature''s arm where Alix cuts, only to shatter as the Stalker''s unnatural energy pulses outward. "Quit running!" The Stalker''s patience snaps, and it lunges again, claws poised to tear through Alix''s chest. Tier 4 Skill ¡ª Mirage Step. Alix flickers out of view, appearing behind his enemy in a flash of blue energy. He drives his sword deep into the Stalker''s back. The creature howls, spinning wildly with unnatural reflexes. Alix''s sword is wrenched from his grip, still buried in its spine. "Persistent little insect!" the Stalker snarls, black energy flaring from its claws as it swings for Alix''s head. Tier 4 Skill ¡ª Arcane Bastion. Alix instinctively throws up a shimmering blue barrier. The Stalker''s claws slam into it, sending a shockwave of force rippling through the air. The barrier holds ¡ª barely ¡ª flickering as cracks spiderweb across its surface. "This isn''t enough..." Alix grimaces, stepping back. His Tier 4 skills are chipping away at the creature, but not enough to deliver a decisive blow. He knows he needs more power ¡ª something stronger. Drawing in a deep breath, Alix focuses his energy, recalling the technique he had only practiced against training dummies. He channels magic through his core, weaving two distinct energies together ¡ª fire and wind. The two Tier 4 spells resist one another at first, the raw forces threatening to spiral out of control. Sparks crackle at his fingertips as the unstable magic surges. Alix grits his teeth, feeling his magic surge as he recalls the combination he had only tested on training dummies. Tier 4 Spell ¡ª Pyre Lance. Tier 4 Skill ¡ª Gale Thrust. He channels both simultaneously ¡ª the searing flames of Pyre Lance flicker to life in his left hand, while his right hand directs Gale Thrust, a concentrated burst of compressed wind that can accelerate objects with immense force. The two energies ripple dangerously as he forces them to intertwine ¡ª not a fusion, but a combined assault. The Umbral Stalker lunges, claws dark with crackling energy. "Try dodging this!" Alix snarls. He fires the Pyre Lance forward, but instead of hurling it with his arm, he channels Gale Thrust behind it. The sudden force amplifies the speed of the fiery spear, turning it into a blazing projectile that rockets through the air like a flaming missile. The compressed wind surrounds the lance, feeding the fire and stretching the flames into a spiraling inferno. Chapter 95: Grell and Tarven The Stalker barely has time to react. It sidesteps ¡ª but the enhanced speed catches it mid-motion. The blazing spear punches through its side, searing flesh and igniting black ichor in a flash of crackling embers. The Stalker howls as flames erupt along its torso, licking up its arm and chest. "You...!" it snarls, staggering back. Alix doesn''t hesitate. With both Tier 5 Umbral Stalkers weakened, this is his chance. He reaches into his satchel and pulls out a dark metal bracer etched with glowing crimson runes ¡ª The Shacklebind Cuff. The runes pulse faintly, eager to activate. "Grixx!" Alix shouts, tossing the bracer toward him. "Pin yours down ¡ª now!" Explore stories on My Virtual Library Empire Grixx, locked in a brutal exchange with his opponent, risks a glance at the flying object. With a grunt, he slams his greatsword into the Stalker''s shoulder, staggering it long enough to snatch the bracer from the air. "Yes, your majesty!" Grixx roars, forcing his opponent to the ground with sheer brute strength. Alix turns to his own foe ¡ª the charred and battered Stalker, still smoldering from the enhanced Pyre Lance. Its breathing is ragged, but its hatred burns stronger than ever. "You''ll regret this," the creature snarls, rising unsteadily. "I doubt it." Alix dashes forward, slamming his palm against the Stalker''s chest. The bracer in his own hand latches onto the creature''s torso, the crimson runes flaring to life. The Stalker''s body jerks violently as the Shacklebind Cuff constricts around its form. Glowing chains of red energy coil tightly around the beast''s limbs, forcing it to its knees. The creature thrashes, but the magic suppresses its strength ¡ª a power designed specifically to subdue weakened Tier 5 entities. On the other side of the battlefield, Grixx roars as he drives the second bracer against his opponent''s neck. The same crimson chains burst forth, snapping around the creature''s arms and torso, binding it in place. Both Stalkers writhe, snarling and cursing in their guttural tongue. Their burning glares fixate on Alix. The Umbral Stalker bound near Berko stares in disbelief, its gaze flicking back and forth between the two subdued figures ¡ª the strongest warriors of their tribe, now shackled and kneeling in chains of glowing crimson. "No... no, that''s impossible," the Stalker mutters, voice trembling. "You... you can''t be bound... Lords Tarven and Grell..." Its voice rises, sharp with desperation. "Lords Tarven! Lord Grell!" it calls out, straining against its restraints. "Fight it! Break free!" The Stalker''s plea echoes through the cavern, panic seeping into its words. "You''re the Unyielding! The Lords of Umbral race! No magic should¡ª!" "Silence!" Tarven, bound before Alix, snarls. His charred form trembles under the weight of the Shacklebind Cuff, but his defiant gaze burns fiercely. Alix steps forward, eyes cold as steel. "You''re not breaking free," he says flatly. "This isn''t a spell you can shatter with brute force. Those cuffs suppress your core ¡ª your power is nothing more than flickering embers right now." The Stalker near Berko glares at Alix, fangs bared. "You think this will hold them forever?" "It won''t have to," Alix replies, calm yet firm. "They''ll either see reason... or I''ll kill them when the time comes." "Empty words," Tarven sneers. "When my strength returns, I''ll rip out your spine and hang it from the Great Thorn." "I suggest you focus on surviving first," Alix retorts. His gaze shifts to the Stalker captive by Berko. "You. What''s your name?" The creature stiffens, glaring warily at him. "I am Vyrin." "Well, Vyrin," Alix says coldly, "if you care about your tribe, you''d better convince your lords to start listening. Because if they don''t..." His gaze flickers back to the two bound Tier 5 Stalkers. "I''ll have no use for them." The tension hangs heavy in the twisted forest ¡ª an endless sprawl of dark, gnarled trees whose branches coil like skeletal fingers. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying wood. Faint whispers seem to drift from the shadows, a constant reminder that the Umbral Stalkers are never far away. Grell ¡ª still bound in glowing crimson chains ¡ª exhales deeply, his chest rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths. He speaks, his tone calm yet firm. "Why?" Grell asks, his hollow eyes narrowing on Alix. "Why did you spare our lives?" Alix, standing just a few steps away, meets his gaze. The flickering crimson runes from the Shacklebind Cuffs cast a faint glow across his face. "Because I like your race," Alix says plainly. "I have a kingdom on the surface, and I want your people to work under me." Grell''s brow furrows slightly. "Work under you?" His voice carries neither anger nor disbelief ¡ª just quiet skepticism. "You believe the Umbral will bend so easily?" "I believe your people are strong," Alix replies steadily. "I''ve seen it for myself. Strength like that has value ¡ª if given the right purpose. I can offer your tribe resources, protection, and power far greater than what you''ve scraped together here." "Power?" Tarven snarls from his kneeling position, still struggling against the chains. His voice is a venomous growl. "You think your scraps can tempt us?" His burning gaze turns to Grell. "Don''t listen to this fool. The Umbral bow to no one!" "You might want to reconsider," Alix says coldly. "If I wanted you dead, you''d already be rotting in this cursed forest. Instead, I''m offering you a future." "Your arrogance will get you killed," Tarven spits. "And your pride will get your tribe slaughtered," Alix snaps back. The sharpness in his tone makes Grell''s gaze linger on him. There''s no desperation in Alix''s voice ¡ª only certainty. The silence stretches until Grell speaks again. "If we refuse?" Grell asks quietly. "Then I''ll destroy you," Alix says bluntly. "Your warriors, your elders, your strongholds ¡ª everything. I won''t waste words twice." Vyrin, still kneeling beside Berko, stares at Alix in stunned silence. The sheer confidence behind Alix''s threat leaves no room for doubt. Alix lets the silence hang for a moment before speaking again. "Ok, I will not threatened you all. Instead, I have something here that will probably change your minds." he says, his voice calm but firm. Chapter 96: Grell and Tarven Submit Without another word, Alix reaches into his satchel and retrieves three books ¡ª each one radiating a faint, golden aura. The air around them seems to ripple, as if the power within threatens to spill out. The covers are marked with intricate glyphs, each one far more complex than the Tier 4 or Tier 5 markings the Umbral have ever seen. The moment the books are revealed, Grell''s eyes widen, his usual calm shattering. Even Tarven ¡ª still seething minutes ago ¡ª freezes in place, his gaze locked on the books. "A... Tier 6 skill book?" Grell mutters in disbelief. "Three Tier 6 skill books," Tarven corrects, his voice quieter than anyone expects. His earlier rage is gone, replaced by something far more dangerous ¡ª hunger. Even Berko, still standing to Alix''s side, struggles to hide his shock. "His Majesty... really does have them..." Berko thinks, his mind racing. "Three Tier 6 skill books... impossible..." In all three kingdoms, not once has a Tier 6 skill book been seen ¡ª only rumors whispered about in awe. Yet here they are, tangible and undeniable, resting in Alix''s hands. Vyrin swallows hard, his eyes flicking from the books to Alix. Even the air feels heavier now, as if the power radiating from those pages is pressing down on him. "The Umbral..." Grell murmurs, still fixated on the glowing texts. "Our people... we''ve never..." "We will never reached Tier 6 because our growth stalls at Tier 4 without the tier 5 skill books," Tarven says firmly. "Even reaching Tier 5 is rare ¡ª and only two of us have managed it." Alix gaze sharpens as he glances between Tarven and Grell. "I''m offering you a chance to change that." For once, Tarven doesn''t sneer. His expression hardens, but his eyes betray his desire. "You''re saying... you''ll give us those books?" Grell asks slowly, his voice cautious. "Not for free," Alix replies. "Serve me ¡ª properly ¡ª and you''ll earn them." He lifts one of the books slightly. "I don''t hand out power to anyone who doesn''t deserve it." stare at the glowing tomes like starving wolves eyeing fresh meat. Even Tarven''s pride seems to waver beneath the weight of what''s being offered. "Think carefully," Alix warns, voice low and commanding. "This isn''t charity ¡ª it''s opportunity. And if you refuse..." He pauses, gaze cold. "I''ll find someone else to replace you." A long, tense silence follows. Tarven''s breathing is heavy, his muscles still straining against the glowing chains. Grell''s gaze flickers back and forth between Alix and the books, conflict clear in his eyes. Even now, the stubborn pride of their kind claws at him, urging him to refuse. But the hunger in their eyes betrays them. The hunger for power. Finally, Grell exhales sharply, lowering his head. "I''ll do it," he says, voice low yet firm. "For the sake of my tribe... I will follow you." Tarven grits his teeth, still trembling with rage. "You''re just going to surrender?" he growls. "Bow your head to some outsider?" Grell''s head lifts slightly, his eyes narrowing. "And what would you have us do?" His voice hardens. "Die clinging to pride?" He gestures to the crimson chains still wrapped around Tarven''s limbs. "We''ve already lost this fight. You know that." Tarven''s snarl falters. His pride wars with reason ¡ª but the weight of the chains and the reality of their defeat are undeniable. His gaze shifts to the books again, lingering on the faint golden glow. With a slow, deliberate breath, Tarven lowers his head. His voice is strained, his words sharp like broken glass. "I... will serve you," he mutters. "But know this ¡ª I follow no fool. If you prove weak... I''ll kill you myself." Experience tales at My Virtual Library Empire Alix steps closer, standing over both kneeling warriors. "If you think you''re capable," he says coldly, "you''re welcome to try." The tension lingers, but both Umbral now bow their heads in submission. "Swear it properly," Alix demands. Grell clenches his fists, then places his palm flat on the ground before him. "I, Grell of the Umbral, swear loyalty to Alix, King of the Surface. I will fight, bleed, and die under his command... so long as he holds strength worthy of our service." Tarven grits his teeth, forcing himself to mimic the gesture. "I, Tarven of the Umbral, make the same oath." Alix stares down at them for a moment, satisfied. "Good," he says. He steps back, lifting his hand. The crimson runes dim, and the glowing chains unravel from their limbs. Grell and Tarven stagger slightly as their strength returns, but they remain kneeling. "Now get up," Alix says firmly. "We have work to do." Grell and Tarven rise slowly, still feeling the lingering weight of the Shacklebind Cuffs. Their gazes flick briefly to the Tier 6 books before Grell clears his throat. "If you''re serious about this," Grell says, "then you''ll need to meet our chieftain. Follow us ¡ª but stay close. Our territory doesn''t take kindly to outsiders." "Lead the way, " Alix replies. The group moves in silence for a while, winding deeper into the twisted forest. The air grows colder, the shadows thicker. The faint whispers that once drifted through the trees now seem louder, more insistent ¡ª as if the forest itself is murmuring warnings. Grell stops near a jagged outcropping of stone, its base covered in tangled roots. He kneels, pressing his palm against a seemingly ordinary patch of bark. The roots pulse faintly with dark energy before twisting aside, revealing a narrow stone passage hidden beneath. "This way," Grell says, stepping through. Berko pauses beside Alix, his expression uneasy. "Your Majesty... are you sure about this?" "They know better than to try anything," Alix replies quietly. "If they don''t... well, they''ve already seen what happens." The passage is narrow and damp, the air stale and cold. The only light comes from faint markings along the walls ¡ª crude carvings that glow with faint purple hues, like veins pulsing in stone. The deeper they go, the more twisted the markings become, spiraling and branching like spiderwebs. "These wards," Alix mutters, running his fingers near one of the symbols. "They''re layered ¡ª protection and illusion magic combined." Grell glances back. "Our tribe has had to rely on deception to survive. After all, there''s a lot of powerful beast here. Few know how to navigate these paths." Chapter 97: Zyra The passage eventually opens into a sprawling cavern, dimly illuminated by patches of faintly glowing moss. Stone platforms rise at uneven heights, connected by rope bridges and narrow paths carved into the walls. Dozens of Umbral figures move about ¡ª some sharpening weapons, others tending to fires or stacking supplies. The moment Grell and Tarven step out into the open, the atmosphere shifts. They stop mid-conversation, their heads turning sharply. The tension in the air eases as recognition sets in. "Lord Grell!" one calls out, bowing his head respectfully. "Lord Tarven," another greets with a fist over his chest. Several more follow suit, murmuring greetings with clear respect. Despite their rough appearance, these Umbral carry themselves with discipline. Alix notices the confusion in their eyes when they glance his way ¡ª Grixx, and Berko. Whispers stir among them. "Who are they?" one voice murmurs. "They must be the ones who captured Captain Vyrin''s squad," another guesses. "Careful," someone else warns. "If the lords brought them here, there''s a reason." No one dares to challenge Grell or Tarven directly, but the suspicion is clear. As they press on, Alix quietly observes the settlement. The Umbral''s dwellings are carved directly into the cavern walls, reinforced with bones, dark iron, and thick woven vines. Despite their primitive design, there''s a sense of structure ¡ª a culture that thrives on discipline and strength. They finally reach the jagged fortress at the cavern''s far end. Two guards stiffen at the sight of Alix and Berko but lower their daggers when Grell steps forward. "We''re here to see the chieftain," Grell says firmly. The guards exchange uneasy glances. "She''s... not in the best mood," one mutters. "When is she ever?" Tarven grunts. Alix already knows their chieftain is a woman by the time they enter, but seeing her still surprises him. She doesn''t have the hardened, battle-scarred look he expected ¡ª instead, her sharp features and piercing eyes. She is hunched over a table covered in various dried herbs, vials of thick liquid, and delicate glass instruments. Strange fumes waft in the air, mixing into an acrid, bitter scent. Her dark chitinous form is sleek, her sensory pits shifting slightly as she sorts through the collection with practiced movements. Without looking up, she speaks. "So, what happened? Did you take Vyrin back?" Her voice is smooth but firm. Vyrin steps forward, lowering his head slightly. "I am back, Chief." The chieftain''s hands pause over a bundle of dried roots. Slowly, she turns to face them, and the moment her gaze lands on Alix and Berko, her entire body tenses. Her sensory pits flare as she processes the sight of three strangers in her domain. The atmosphere in the chamber shifts instantly¡ªwhat was once a casual inquiry becomes cold. Her voice is sharper this time. "Who are they?" Grell speaks before Alix can answer. "Outsiders... but not enemies." The chieftain''s head tilts slightly, her clawed fingers tapping against the wooden table. "You brought outsiders here," she repeats, as if testing how the words feel. "To our sanctuary." Her gaze flicks to Tarven. "And you allowed this?" Tarven''s jaw tightens, but he doesn''t look away. "We had no choice." The chieftain exhales, stepping forward. Unlike the Umbrals outside, she carries no visible weapons, no armor¡ªonly a simple, tattered cloak draped over her shoulders. And yet, the weight of her presence is undeniable. She stops a few feet away from Alix, tilting her head slightly. "You don''t smell like prey," she murmurs. "And you don''t move like a fool." Alix meets her gaze steadily. "I wouldn''t have made it here if I was either of those." A slow, deliberate silence follows. Then, unexpectedly, the chieftain chuckles. "Interesting," she says. "Tell me, outsider... what exactly do you want from the Umbral?" Grell steps forward before Alix can respond, his voice steady but firm. "His Majesty wants to take all of us to his kingdom," he says. "The two of us have already pledged our loyalty." The chieftain''s fingers still against the table. Her sensory pits flare slightly, processing his words. Then she exhales, slow and measured. "You speak as if it''s already decided," she murmurs, her voice unreadable. "And yet, I don''t recall making that decision for my people." Tarven crosses his arms, his posture tense but unwavering. "We aren''t asking for permission, Chief. We need this." The chieftain''s gaze snaps to him, sharp as a blade. "You presume to tell me what our people need?" Grell doesn''t waver. "Yes." Silence settles over the room like a thick fog. The tension between them is palpable. The chieftain slowly straightens, studying them both as if seeing them for the first time. Then, she shifts her focus to Alix. "And you," she says. "King of the Surface, was it?" Alix nods. "It is." Her fingers tap against the table again, thoughtful. "You come here offering to take my people. To uproot us, to claim us under your rule." Her head tilts. "And why would I allow that?" Alix meets her gaze without hesitation. "Because under me, you''ll reach heights you''ve never even dreamed of." The chieftain exhales a quiet laugh, though there''s no humor in it. "Bold words. But power alone isn''t enough to earn our loyalty." Alix smirks. "Then tell me¡ªwhat will?" Instead of answering immediately, the chieftain studies him. Her sensory pits flare subtly, taking in more than just his words. Then, she crosses her arms. "Start with your name, Surface King." "Alix." His voice is steady, firm. "And you?" She inclines her head slightly. "Zyra." Alix nods, as if considering something. Then he speaks again, his tone carrying a knowing edge. "Aren''t you already at the peak of Tier 4 as a mage? And a Tier 3 alchemist on top of that?" Zyra stiffens, her sharp features betraying a flicker of surprise. Alix presses on, his gaze unwavering. "Considering you managed to reach Tier 3 in alchemy entirely on your own, that''s impressive. More than impressive, really." For the first time, she seems truly caught off guard. Her clawed fingers tap against the wooden surface in a slow, thoughtful rhythm. "You can see that?" Instead of answering, Alix lifts his hand. Suddenly, with a faint shimmer, a large, ancient-looking tome materializes in his grasp¡ªa Tier 5 spellbook. The air around it hums with latent magic, its presence undeniable. As if that wasn''t enough, another object appears¡ªa delicate scroll, tied with dark silk. A Tier 4 alchemy recipe. Zyra''s breath catches. Her sensory pits flare wide as she locks onto the items, eyes gleaming as if she''s staring at the most precious treasure she''s ever seen. Then, to Alix''s surprise, she throws her head back and laughs¡ªa deep, genuine sound that echoes through the chamber. "Hahaha! Your Majesty," she says, grinning now, "you didn''t tell me you were this generous." She steps forward, unable to hide her excitement as she examines the spellbook from a distance. "With gifts like these, you think anyone in my tribe would refuse to serve you?" She looks up at him again, but this time, her expression has shifted¡ªnot just interest, but something closer to admiration. "Our tribe would be honored to follow a being as strong as you." Alix thinks to himself, That was easier than I expected. Mages truly crave knowledge, and considering Zyra is also an alchemist, her reaction makes perfect sense. Zyra straightens, her entire demeanor shifting. There''s no hesitation now, only determination. She steps aside and gestures toward the cavern''s entrance with an unexpected level of respect. "Your Majesty, allow me to properly introduce you to our people." Zyra leads Alix outside, her movements now purposeful, as if she''s already embraced the change in leadership. As they step out into the main cavern, the murmurs begin. "Why the Chief so respectfull to that stranger?" "What''s going on?" Zyra doesn''t leave room for doubt. She walks forward, her voice ringing through the cavern with absolute authority. "Gather everyone. Now." The Umbral don''t question her. Shadows flicker as assassins dart away to spread the command. Within minutes, hundreds of figures emerge from the tunnels and dwellings, forming a massive crowd before the fortress. There are at least a thousand Umbral here, all clad in dark armor or light, flexible garments suited for stealth. Their glowing eyes flick between Zyra and Alix, uncertain but curious. Alix observes them carefully. Half of them are assassins trained to strike from the shadows. The other half consists of elders, non-combatants, and children, but even they move with the silent grace of their kin. These people were born to be killers, yet there is discipline here, a structure. Zyra steps forward, raising a hand. "Listen well, my kin! Today marks the beginning of a new future!" A hush falls over the gathering. Every Umbral focuses entirely on her. "I have chosen to pledge myself, Grell, and Tarven, ¡ªand all of you¡ªto His Majesty, King Alix," Zyra declares, her voice steady and firm. "He is strong. Generous. And he offers us a future beyond these caves. A future of growth, power, and knowledge." A ripple of uncertainty spreads through the crowd. A few exchange glances, some nodding subtly, but others remain tense. Then, one Umbral steps forward¡ªa man with sharp eyes and a scar across his cheek. His voice is steady but laced with doubt. Continue reading at My Virtual Library Empire "Chief Zyra, we all respect you. No one has done more to protect us from the beasts outside, from the dangers that would wipe us out. But..." He hesitates for a moment before pushing on. "Is it really okay to place ourselves in someone else''s hands? To surrender the freedom we''ve fought so hard to keep?" Silence follows his words. Alix chuckles, a deep, amused sound that carries through the cavern. He steps forward, every movement confident, controlled. Chapter 98: Other Three Races "Surrender?" he repeats, shaking his head. "You think I came here to take your freedom? To make you servants?" His gaze sweeps across the gathered assassins, his voice firm but calm. "If that''s what you believe, then you don''t understand what I''m offering." The murmurs die down as Alix continues. "You''ve spent your lives in the dark, hunted, forced to kill just to survive. You''re feared, but only in whispers. Feared, but never respected. You skulk in caves while the world above didn''t know you exist." He gestures around the cavern. "You''re strong, but your strength is wasted on mere survival. Tell me¡ªis that the future you want? A life of scraping by, hiding in the shadows until something stronger comes along and wipes you out?" His words hit hard. Many of the Umbral lower their heads, their hands tightening into fists. Alix steps closer, his presence almost suffocating. "I don''t want your submission. I want your loyalty. And in return, I will give you something no leader before me ever has¡ªa future." His voice grows sharper. "I will take you out of these caves and raise you to heights no assassin has ever reached. Under my banner, you won''t just be killers in the dark. You will be shadows of the empire, feared and respected by all who dare to stand in our way." He lets the words sink in, then lifts his hand once more. More books materialize¡ªTier 4 and Tier 5 assassin techniques, the kind of power that could elevate even the weakest among them. A collective breath is drawn in. "I will make you stronger. I will give you power beyond your imagination. And when the world above speaks of you, they won''t whisper about nameless assassins lurking in caves. They will tremble at the name of the Umbral Race." Silence grips the cavern. Then, a single voice murmurs, almost in awe, "We will be feared..." Zyra steps forward, her sharp gaze scanning the crowd. "You doubt him? Fine. Then I ask you¡ªhave I ever led you wrong?" The one who spoke earlier exhales deeply. His fingers twitch at his sides before, slowly, he kneels. "If you trust him, Chief... then I will too." One by one, more Umbral kneel, the weight of their decision settling in. And then, as if a dam has broken, the entire tribe follows. Hundreds of voices speak as one. "We pledge ourselves to His Majesty!" Zyra smirks, glancing at Alix. "Well, Your Majesty," she murmurs, "I believe you''ve just gained an army of assassins." Alix watches the kneeling Umbral with a satisfied expression. This is a good gain¡ªloyal, disciplined, and deadly assassins. But a question lingers in his mind. He turns to Zyra. "Tell me, why did your people choose to live here rather than on the surface?" Zyra exhales, folding her arms. "Your Majesty, to tell you the truth, we don''t really know. Since the moment I was born, we were already here, deep underground. Our elders never spoke of a time when we lived on the surface. It''s as if our history before this place was erased." Alix narrows his eyes. "And no one ever tried to leave?" "We did, every three months the entrance to the surface will open." Zyra says, exchanging a glance with Grell and Tarven. "The three of us once attempted to reach the surface. We barely made it before we were attacked¡ªwithout warning, without reason. Those called humans slaughtered those who tried to go to the surface." Her voice hardens. "We realized then that the surface was not a place that welcomed our kind." Alix hums in thought. Typical. Anything unknown or different, and humans immediately react with violence. He shifts his gaze toward the vast cavern. "This place is massive. Are you the only ones living here?" Zyra shakes her head. "No, there are at least three other races that call this place home, as far as I know." Alix raises a brow. "And what are they?" Zyra''s expression turns grim. "I wouldn''t recommend going after them, Your Majesty." Alix smirks. "Oh? And why not?" "Each of those races is led by a Tier 6 being," Zyra explains. "The only reason the Umbral have survived here for so long is because of the Tier 6 defensive spell guarding our home''s entrance. Without it, we would have been wiped out a long time ago." Alix tilts his head, considering her words. He could easily subdue a Tier 6 entity if needed, but it would be unnecessary. The lowest consumable item he owns is Tier 8 and above¡ªoverkill for dealing with mere Tier 6 threats. After all, in his past life, he was max level in the game. He only kept low level skills, weapons, and armor to sell for real-world money. Still, there''s no need to waste resources recklessly. He chuckles. "I do want to swallow them all," he admits, "but you''re right. No need to cause unnecessary trouble." Zyra watches him carefully, her expression unreadable. "I don''t doubt your strength, Your Majesty, but those three aren''t to be underestimated. If you plan to expand into this underground realm, you''ll need to be cautious." Alix simply smiles. "Caution is a given. But tell me, Zyra... do you know anything about those Tier 6 beings?" Explore more stories at My Virtual Library Empire Zyra''s expression darkens. "As far as I know, those Tier 6 powerhouses are trapped within their own domains. For some unknown reason, they can''t leave their territories." Alix''s interest piques. "They can''t leave?" He strokes his chin. He thought. ''That is interesting. I''ll have to look into that when I unlock more of my levels.'' Alix smirks. "Noted." Then, he shifts his focus back to the gathered Umbral. "Enough talk for now. We need to move." Alix continued. "The entrance to the surface is open now, isn''t it? We should go before it closes. Otherwise, we''ll be stuck here for another three months." A flicker of realization crosses Zyra''s face, followed by urgency. "You''re right. The gateway doesn''t stay open for long. If we miss this chance, we''ll have no choice but to wait." Chapter 99: They Arrive At Noctaris City A flicker of realization crosses Zyra''s face, followed by urgency. "You''re right. The gateway doesn''t stay open for long. If we miss this chance, we''ll have no choice but to wait." She looks back at her people and raises her voice. "Everyone, prepare to move out! Those who wish to follow His Majesty, gather what you need¡ªwe leave now!" The entire cavern stirs with activity. Assassins vanish into the shadows, retrieving weapons, supplies, and essentials. Within moments, the entire tribe is mobilizing. As the Umbral swiftly prepare to move, Grixx steps beside Alix, his expression one of deep respect. "Your Majesty, congratulations on gaining another powerful race for the kingdom," he says. Berko nods in agreement, a grin on his face. "Indeed. The Umbral are assassins born and trained in the shadows. With them, our forces grow even stronger." Alix acknowledges their words with a small smirk. "They''ll be useful." With everything ready, they make their way toward the entrance. The towering stone walls that once had beasts crawling over them are now eerily silent¡ªempty. Zyra glances around, her brows furrowing. "Good timing... The beasts that swarm the exit are now gone." Alix doesn''t take chances. With a casual motion, he activates an item from his inventory. A faint pulse of energy spreads outward, and in an instant, a thousand Umbral¡ªincluding himself and his group¡ªare cloaked in invisibility. "The surface is just ahead," Alix says. "Move silently." The group advances, their footsteps making no sound. When they emerge into the surface world, the sun is still high in the sky, casting long shadows over the landscape. A few adventurers are scattered around, picking through the remains of a dead beast. One of them suddenly shivers and rubs his arms. "Hey... why did it suddenly get cold?" Another looks up from looting the corpse, frowning. "The sun is still out. You feeling sick or something?" "Nah, it''s weird... like something just passed by us." The adventurer scans the area, unease creeping into his voice. But all he sees is an empty landscape. Alix and the Umbral slip past them, unseen. As they travel, the Umbral remain silent, their movements precise and disciplined. The surface world is vast and open, a stark contrast to the underground realm they have known all their lives. Many of them glance around warily, their instincts sharpened by years of survival in the shadows. Zyra walks beside Alix, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon. "Your Majesty, where exactly are we heading?" Alix smirks. "To my capital city." At his words, curiosity flickers in Zyra''s gaze, but she remains quiet. The journey is swift¡ª. When they arrive at Noctaris City, a stunned silence falls over the Umbral. Eyes widen in disbelief. Some even stop in their tracks, heads tilting up to take in the impossible sight before them. Floating islands hover high above, small fragments of land suspended in the air, defying gravity. But what truly takes their breath away are the five colossal floating islands near the palace. The city itself is grand beyond their imagination. Towering buildings of elegant architecture stretch across the vast landscape. Even the most ordinary homes in the residential areas looks luxurious. Streets are wide, paved with smooth stone, and the entire city radiates an air of quiet, untamed majesty. Grell mutters under his breath, "This... is a kingdom?" Tarven exhales sharply. "No... this is something more." Zyra, stands frozen for a moment before turning to Alix. "Your Majesty... This place... it''s empty?" Alix nods. "For now." Indeed, aside from them, the entire city is devoid of life. Only a handful of strange creatures wander the streets¡ªmonsters with elegant forms, unlike anything the Umbral have ever encountered. One Umbral whispers, "What are those things...?" "They are a different monster race, just like you all," Alix says casually, watching as the strange creatures move gracefully through the city. Zyra''s eyes narrow slightly, and she turns to face him. "So... we are called monsters?" Her tone isn''t angry, but there''s a sharp edge to it. Alix glances at her, then shrugs. "By human standards? Yes. Anything that isn''t them, anything they can''t control, they label a monster. It doesn''t matter if you have intelligence, culture, or emotions. To them, you''ll always be something to be feared or destroyed." Zyra crosses her arms, exhaling through her nose. "Hmph." She glances at her people, who are still cautiously observing their new surroundings. "But this place... it''s more than we ever imagined. No one has ever offered us a home before." Alix meets her gaze. "Then start getting used to it." He steps forward, looking over the gathered Umbral. "Zyra, you should settle your people. Pick any district you see fit." Zyra nods, determination flashing in her crimson eyes. "Understood, Your Majesty." She turns to her people, already issuing silent commands through subtle gestures. Alix then looks to Berko. "You can pick any house in the residential area. Treat it as your new home. If you need anything, you''ll find resources in the city''s storage. And..." He pauses slightly before continuing, "You can visit your tribesmate in the house of General Varkas. Just wait in your new home, and Varkas will come to you with the two children." Berko''s eyes widen slightly at the mention of the children. He bows deeply, a display of gratitude. "I understand, Your Majesty. Thank you." Alix nods once before turning to Grell and Tarven. "You two, come with me." Without another word, he starts walking toward the palace. The two assassins exchange glances before silently falling in step behind him. As they move through the city, the towering structures and floating islands loom above them like silent sentinels. Tarven can''t help but glance around in awe. "This place is unreal... It''s too perfect. Too vast." Grell, ever the skeptic, frowns. "Yet it''s empty. A city like this should be brimming with life. What happened here?" Explore hidden tales at My Virtual Library Empire Alix doesn''t stop walking as he responds, his tone casual. "It''s waiting." Tarven raises a brow. "For what?" Alix smirks. "For me to fill it." Neither Grell nor Tarven responds, but a chill runs down their spines. Something tells them that under Alix''s rule, Noctaris City will not remain empty for long. Chapter 100: Resurrection Of The Officials (part 1) They arrive inside a chamber that resembles a miniature throne room¡ªits design dark and elegant, with intricate patterns carved into the obsidian walls. Shadows cling unnaturally to the edges of the room, giving it a foreboding yet commanding presence. Before Grell and Tarven can take in more details, the air shifts. A sudden, suffocating stillness fills the room. Then¡ªVaelith materializes. It is not a slow emergence but an almost unnatural transition, as if he was always there, hidden between the layers of reality itself. His form solidifies, his pitch-black armor gleaming under the dim light, and his piercing gaze settles on them. A chill grips both assassins. Even as Tier 5 warriors, trained to sense the faintest disturbances, they hadn''t noticed him until he was fully present. That realization alone sends an uneasy shiver down their spines. "This guy is very dangerous." Alix steps forward, his voice even. "This is Vaelith. The one in command of the shadows right now." He looks at Grell and Tarven, his expression unreadable. "Although both of you are also Tier 5, you need to earn your place in the shadows. You two, along with all the Umbral assassins, will listen to Vaelith." There is no hesitation. Both assassins kneel slightly, placing a fist over their chests. "As you wish, Your Majesty," they say in unison. Alix turns his gaze to Vaelith. "I''ll leave them to you." Vaelith steps forward, his voice smooth yet carrying an undeniable weight. "Understood, Your Majesty." His cold, calculating eyes flicker to the two assassins. Grell and Tarven say nothing, but their muscles tense. They had a feeling their real test was only just beginning. Alix teleports into his working chamber, the air shifting subtly as he appears. The room is vast yet minimalistic, designed for efficiency rather than decoration. Large windows overlook the floating islands, giving him a clear view of his the whole city. He wastes no time. With a thought, his status screen materializes before him, the transparent blue interface displaying critical information. Kingdom Population: 337,924 A small smirk forms on his lips. Good. After the successful conquest of Delon City, the hesitation among the monsters in the surrounding forests had finally disappeared. Many had made their choice¡ªsettling in Misorn or Delon City, strengthening his kingdom''s foundation. Alix leans back slightly, arms crossed. "At 500,000... I''ll finally unlock my level to 500." After that, Alix turns his attention to the reports stacked neatly on his desk. With a wave of his hand, the documents arrange themselves before him, and he begins reading through them one by one. The past few days have been eventful. Both Misorn and Delon City are developing at an impressive rate. The influx of new residents has stabilized, and infrastructure is expanding to accommodate the growing population. One report catches his eye. [Military status update: Currently, twenty thousand monsters have joined the army. Under General Sorin''s command, the total number of soldiers has reached thirty thousand. They are all practicing the Finger of the Death God technique, though they still can''t managed to materialize the actual manifestation yet.] Alix nods slightly. "Expected. It''s a special skill, after all. But once they do succeed..." He trails off, his mind already envisioning the sheer destructive force his army will wield. His gaze shifts to another report, one marked with a shadow insignia. He opens it and scans the contents. [A prince of the Raltheon Kingdom recently visited Delon City, disguised as a merchant. Since Delon City allows human merchants to trade freely, he was able to blend in without issue. Our spies tailed him and confirmed that he was merely observing¡ªhe wanted to see if humans were thriving under monster rule. Commander Sorin, after assessing the situation, allowed him to move freely without interference.] Alix sets the report down, tapping his fingers against the desk. "A Raltheon prince, huh?" The next report, however, is far more interesting. "Despite the death of Marshal Draven, the three human kingdoms have yet to take action. The most surprising is the silence from Valgros Kingdom, considering Draven was one of their high-ranking marshals." Alix''s eyes narrow slightly. "Strange... No retaliation? No immediate response?" He expected at least some form of reaction¡ªwhether a diplomatic inquiry, a show of force, or even a subtle probe. Yet, nothing. Alix leans back, deep in thought. "They''re either doesn''t care... or they were afraid of something." A faint chuckle escapes him. "Interesting. Let''s see how long they stay quiet." Closing the reports, he rests his chin on his hand, his mind already working through his next moves. Alix closes his eyes for a moment, sending a mental call to Draya. Instantly, he feels the link between them activate. Come to my chamber. Within seconds, he senses her presence moving swiftly through the palace. Draya is efficient¡ªalways where he needs her, handling tasks before he even gives the order. She is the head maid, but Alix makes her do far more than just managing the palace staff. As he waits, he leans back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly against the desk. "I should resurrect some of my officials." The thought lingers in his mind. While they lack combat power, they are crucial for running the kingdom. Bureaucracy, logistics, governance¡ªthese things can''t be left solely to warriors and generals. "Also... I feel bad for making Draya do everything." A faint sigh escapes him. A moment later, the door opens soundlessly, and Draya steps in. She moves with practiced grace, her posture perfect as she approaches and bows deeply. "Welcome back, Your Majesty," she greets, her voice smooth yet filled with quiet warmth. Alix glances at her. "I''m back." Draya straightens, her sharp eyes immediately scanning his expression. "You called for me, Your Majesty?" Alix nods, his tone casual. "I did. You''ve been handling too much lately." Draya blinks, as if the idea of too much doesn''t quite register. "I am simply fulfilling my duties." He smirks. "That''s the problem. You take on too much without complaint." Chapter 101: Resurrection Of The Officials (part 2) Draya tilts her head slightly, but she doesn''t argue. She knows better. Alix leans forward, resting his forearms on the desk. "I''m going to start reviving my officials. It''ll lighten your workload." Draya''s eyes flicker with understanding, but there''s no sign of relief¡ªjust quiet acknowledgment. "That would be wise, Your Majesty. The kingdom is growing faster than expected. More hands would ensure efficiency." Alix chuckles. "So you do think I''ve been overworking you." Draya''s lips twitch into the faintest of smiles. "I would never say such a thing, Your Majesty." Alix shakes his head in amusement before his expression turns serious. "Prepare the palace. Soon, we''ll be welcoming some old faces back to life." Draya bows slightly. "Understood." Alix leans back in his chair, his gaze settling on Draya. "But first, tell me¡ªhow many gold coins do we have right now?" Draya doesn''t hesitate. "With the two cities combined, we currently have over 300,000 gold coins. I already allocated 100,000 for development, so that leaves you with over 200,000 at your disposal, Your Majesty." Alix nods, satisfied. "That should be enough money." Without wasting any more time, Alix stands. In an instant, the space around him distorts, and with a pulse of dark energy, he vanishes from his chamber. He reappears deep underground, in the Resurrection Room¡ªa vast hall hidden beneath the palace. The air here is thick, heavy with an ancient power that lingers like a silent whisper. The walls are made of dark stone, their surfaces carved with intricate patterns of forgotten magic. Faint red luminescence pulses through the veins of the rock, casting eerie shadows that shift unnaturally. At the room''s center stands the Resurrection Altar¡ªa massive black stone slab, covered in glowing runes that pulse with deep crimson light. The moment Alix steps forward, the runes react, brightening as if recognizing his presence. A low hum resonates through the chamber. Alix places a hand on the altar. Immediately, a wave of energy rushes through him. The runes flicker, their crimson glow intensifying as Alix channels the gold coins into the altar. The energy surges outward, filling the chamber with a deep, resonant hum. One by one, the revival process begins. A dark mist rises from the altar, swirling violently before condensing into a physical form. The first figure solidifies¡ªa towering, reptilian monster clad in heavy robes, his emerald-green scales gleaming under the dim light. His sharp, calculating eyes flick open. "Lirik, Minister of Finance," Alix announces, watching as the newly revived official kneels before him. "Your Majesty," Lirik breathes, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble. "Thank you for reviving me." Alix nods. "Your expertise is needed again. The kingdom has grown, and I require someone I can trust to oversee its economy." Lirik presses a clawed fist to his chest. "It will be as you command." Before he can say more, the altar pulses again, and another figure emerges. This time, a slender, silver-furred beastkin takes shape. His piercing blue eyes dart around the chamber as if assessing everything in an instant. "Vaelin, Minister of Intelligence," Alix states. Vaelin exhales sharply, flexing his claws before kneeling. "Your Majesty. It seems much has changed." Alix smirks. "A lot. I trust you''ll get up to speed quickly?" "Of course," Vaelin replies smoothly. "Information is my trade, after all." Another surge of power. The next figure forms¡ªa hulking, dark-skinned ogre with four arms, his muscular body wrapped in ceremonial armor. His deep-set red eyes lock onto Alix as he drops to one knee. "Thano, Minister of Infrastructure," Alix declares. Thano thumps his massive fist against his chest. "It is an honor to serve again, Your Majesty. Tell me, what do you need built?" Alix chuckles. "You''ll find plenty of work waiting for you." One after another, the officials continue to return. A hunched, bat-like humanoid with leathery wings and sharp, beady eyes¡ªMorrak, Minister of Commerce. A three-eyed serpent-like being, his movements fluid and hypnotic¡ªSissari, Minister of Foreign Affairs. With each revival, Alix feels the weight of responsibility shifting, the burden of governance no longer solely on his shoulders. As the last of the officials kneel before him, he surveys them, satisfaction settling in his chest. "Welcome back," he says, his voice calm yet firm. The ministers kneel before him, their gazes filled with a mix of reverence and quiet determination. Alix lets the silence linger for a moment before speaking. "As you all can see," he begins, his voice steady, "in the last war, all of you died. And we hit rock bottom." A heavy stillness fills the chamber. The memories of their deaths, the destruction of their kingdom, and the fall of their people flicker in their eyes. Even those who pride themselves on their composure¡ªlike Vaelin and Sissari¡ªcan''t hide the flicker of emotions crossing their faces. "But things have changed," Alix continues. "Right now, the kingdom has two cities and over three hundred thousand residents. It''s not what we once had, but it''s a foundation¡ªa new beginning." Lirik, the Finance Minister, inclines his head. "Three hundred thousand..." His reptilian eyes gleam with thought. "Considering the rapid recovery, the economic structure must be unstable. We''ll need to regulate trade carefully to prevent inflation." Morrak, the bat-like Minister of Commerce, clicks his tongue. "I assume human merchants are still active in our lands?" Alix nods. "Yes. Delon City, in particular, is attracting attention." Alix glances at Thano. "Your department has the most immediate task. We need infrastructure to support our growth. Housing, roads, fortifications¡ªeverything." Thano grins, cracking his massive knuckles. "No complaints here, Your Majesty. Just give me workers, and I''ll have cities rising in no time." The ministers exchange brief glances, their unspoken communication clear. They may have just returned from the dead, but their instincts remain sharp. Alix exhales, his gaze sweeping over them. "You all know what needs to be done. Get to work." One by one, they bow. "As you command, Your Majesty." Without hesitation, they leave the Resurrection Room, each one already forming plans, strategies, and adjustments for the new reality of the kingdom. Alix watches them go, a small smirk playing at his lips. ''They''ll adapt. They always do.'' Chapter 102: Cras City The next day Morning arrives, and the kingdom hums with renewed energy. The ministers, freshly revived yet already fully immersed in their duties, work with an efficiency. A knock sounds at his door. "Enter," Alix calls. Draya steps inside, bowing slightly. "Your Majesty, reports from the ministers." She hands him a neatly stacked set of documents. Alix flips through them, but before he can read the details, Draya speaks again. "Thano and Lirik are especially efficient," she notes. "Thano has already organized a workforce for infrastructure projects, and Lirik is implementing strict economic policies to stabilize trade and tax collection." Alix smirks. "Good. I expected nothing less." Down in the administrative halls, Thano towers over a large table, surrounded by new talented monsters. "We''ll prioritize road expansions first," he rumbles, pointing at a map. His massive fingers tap key locations. "If we improve transport routes between Delon and Misorn, trade efficiency will increase." A lean goblin, nods eagerly. "And that will lower the strain on the merchants, allowing more goods to circulate faster." "Exactly," Thano grunts. "After that, we reinforce the city walls. The humans might be watching, but if they ever get stupid, I want them to see fortifications they know they can''t break through." The room fills with approving murmurs. Thano''s practical approach reassures everyone present¡ªthis isn''t just expansion, it''s preparation for whatever comes next. Meanwhile, in the Finance Ministry, Lirik scans financial records with razor-sharp focus. His emerald-green scales shimmer under the candlelight as his clawed hand scribbles notes. A subordinate, a harpy accountant, shifts nervously. "Minister, about the tax adjustments¡ª" "They stay," Lirik states firmly, not looking up. "If we lessen taxes too soon, we risk destabilizing growth. Keep them balanced. We need to build a treasury reserve before we make concessions." The harpy swallows and nods. "Understood." Lirik finally looks up, his piercing gaze settling on her. "Do you doubt my decision?" "N-no, sir! Just making sure I understood correctly." Lirik huffs, satisfied. "Good. The kingdom is recovering, but rapid growth comes with risk. Stability is more important than reckless expansion." Back in Alix''s chamber. Alix leans back in his chair after reviewing the reports. Everything is going smoothly¡ªbetter than he anticipated. Alix taps his fingers against the armrest of his chair, his thoughts shifting toward the next step. ''I guess it''s time to announce my kingdom to the world.'' Misorn and Delon are already under his control. His ministers are handling internal affairs well. Now, it''s time to establish their presence beyond their borders. Without hesitation, Alix calls out, "Vaelin." A brief silence follows before the air in front of him distorts. Shadows ripple and twist until a tall, silver-furred beastkin materializes, his piercing blue eyes already locked onto Alix. "You called, Your Majesty?" Vaelin''s voice is smooth, carrying a quiet sharpness. Alix meets his gaze. "Spread the word. We will now announce our kingdom''s name to the world. Make sure this news reaches the three kingdoms as well." Vaelin''s bows. "As you command. I will ensure the message is delivered far and wide." Without another word, he vanishes, his form dissolving into wisps of shadow. Alix leans back, exhaling slowly. Let''s see how the world reacts. ---- Inside the grand palace of Eldoria, King Edric sits in his chamber, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he reads the report in his hands. The seal of the Intelligence Division marks the parchment, its contents clear and undeniable. "The monsters occupying Misorn and Delon have declared their own kingdom... Erevaris." Edric rubs his temple, his expression weary. This wasn''t entirely unexpected, but hearing it confirmed feels like a sharp blow nonetheless. A deep voice interrupts his thoughts. "Your Majesty," Marshal Walric says, standing tall in his polished armor, "do you want me to station all our soldiers in Cras City? It''s close to Delon. If those monsters expand further, Cras will surely be their next target." Edric sets the report down and shakes his head. "No, there''s no need." His voice is calm but firm. "We need to focus our strength on defending Varestand City." Walric frowns slightly but doesn''t argue. "Varestand is valuable, yes, but if we lose Cras, it will weaken our defenses in the south." Edric exhales slowly, his gaze heavy with thought. "We don''t have a choice, Walric," he says, his voice quieter but firm. "We can only abandon Cras City." Walric stiffens. "Your Majesty¡ª" "They have a Tier 5 monster on their side," Edric cuts in, his expression grim. "While we have none." The marshal clenches his fists, his jaw tightening. He knows Edric is right. A Tier 5 monster alone is enough to wipe out an entire battalion. Holding Cras against such a force would be suicide. Edric leans back in his chair, fingers steepled. "Varestand, on the other hand, has a Tier 5 defensive spell from the Mage Tower. If they come for us, that''s where we make our stand." Walric exhales sharply, his shoulders tense. "Abandoning Cras means giving them more ground." "It means delaying an inevitable loss," Edric corrects. "Cras was a trade hub. But Varestand is different. If Erevaris expands further, they''ll have to think twice before attacking it." The room falls into silence. The weight of the decision settles between them. Finally, Walric nods, his expression dark. "I''ll oversee the evacuation of Cras and reinforce Varestand immediately." "Good." Edric''s voice is steady, but there''s no triumph in it¡ªonly the cold calculation of survival. As Walric turns to leave, Edric grips the armrest of his chair, his knuckles whitening. A monster kingdom, a Tier 5 force at their disposal... and we have nothing to match them. His gaze darkens. "We need a way to fight back." ----- The early morning mist clings to the ground as Sorin rides at the head of her force, the disciplined march of monsters echoing through the open plains. The city of Cras rises in the distance, its modest walls a pale reflection of the grander fortifications of Delon. Sorin narrows her eyes. Too quiet. Chapter 103: Varestand City She expected some resistance¡ªhumans always clung stubbornly to their cities. But as they draw closer, there''s no movement, no sign of soldiers reinforcing the gates. Then she sees it. A handful of guards stand atop the walls, their postures slumped. Above them, a white flag flutters weakly in the cold wind. Sorin halts her mount, her crimson eyes flashing with suspicion. She raises a hand, signaling her forces to stop. Nyssara beside her grunts. "They surrendered already?" "Seems that way," Sorin mutters, scanning the surroundings. She doesn''t like it. Victory without a fight rarely feels like a victory at all. From the gates, a frail-looking man steps forward, dressed in hastily donned armor that barely fits. His voice wavers as he calls out, "We surrender! Cras is yours!" Sorin studies him for a moment before nudging her beast forward. Her soldiers remain tense behind her, ready for any last-minute tricks. "Open the gates," she orders. The guards hesitate, then scramble to obey. As the gates creak open, Sorin rides through first, eyes sweeping the near-empty streets. The city is eerily silent. Most of the buildings are intact, but the lack of people is glaring. "Where is the city lord?" she asks coldly, her gaze locking onto the man in front of her. The guard swallows hard. "Gone. Fled with most of the citizens. Only those who couldn''t leave remain." Sorin scoffs. "Cowards." She gestures, and her forces begin to spread through the streets, securing key locations with efficiency. There''s no resistance, no hidden soldiers waiting to ambush them. Cras has been abandoned in everything but name. A shadowy figure slips up beside her¡ªone of her spies. "We confirmed it. Most of the humans evacuated days ago. The Raltheon army pulled back to reinforce Varestand." Sorin clicks her tongue in annoyance. "So they''re smarter than I thought." She turns to her forces. "Secure the town hall, the gold coins, and any supply caches left behind. We''re fortifying this place." As her soldiers move through the city, ensuring their new territory is secured, Sorin turns to the shadow still standing beside her. "Tell me about Varestand," she orders, her voice sharp and to the point. "What kind of city are we dealing with?" The shadow, a cloaked figure with a faintly distorted presence, bows slightly. "Varestand is nothing like Cras. It is one of the strongest border cities under the Raltheon Kingdom''s rule. Unlike Cras, which was mainly a trade hub, Varestand is a fortress city." Sorin crosses her arms, listening intently. "Go on." The shadow continues, his tone calm but informative. "The city is built on elevated terrain, giving them a natural defensive advantage. Its walls are thick, reinforced with enchanted stone, and there is only one main gate¡ªthe rest is sheer cliffs. The Raltheon army has stationed at least fifty thousand soldiers there right now, including elite knights and battle mages." Sorin frowns slightly. "And their leadership?" "Varestand is now commanded by marshal Walric, a peak tier 4 knight. He is a defensive specialist, known for holding ground against overwhelming forces. Reports indicate he is cautious but extremely disciplined." Sorin exhales, processing the information. "So they are planning to stop us in this city." The shadow nods. "The most significant threat is the defensive magic cast over the city. The Mage Tower in Raltheon has placed a Tier 5 barrier spell around Varestand. It greatly reduces the effectiveness of direct attacks and negates large-scale magic bombardments." "Indeed," the shadow agrees. "Breaking through their defenses will not be as simple as marching in. Even with General Varkas, it will take time to destroy it." Sorin listens in silence, her crimson eyes fixed on the city''s direction. A heavily fortified city, a seasoned commander, and a powerful barrier spell¡ªVarestand won''t fall as easily as Cras. She turns her gaze back to the shadow. "Send word to General Varkas immediately." The shadow bows slightly. "What message should I deliver?" "Tell him we''ve secured Cras without a fight, but Varestand is different. If we''re to take it, we need him to attack directly. His strength will be crucial in breaking their defenses." The shadow inclines his head. "Understood. I will ensure he receives the message without delay." Hours pass, and the air grows thick with anticipation. Sorin stands atop the city walls of Cras, watching the distant horizon. Then, a gust of wind stirs the air, carrying with it the scent of blood and wild earth. A shadow streaks across the sky. A hulking figure descends, his form silhouetted against the setting sun. With a controlled yet powerful landing, General Varkas touches down. The Lycanthrope general straightens, his eyes gleaming like molten fire beneath his thick, crimson mane. His presence alone radiates power. "Commander Sorin," Varkas rumbles, his deep voice carrying easily over the quiet city. "I received the report." Sorin steps forward, offering a respectful nod. "Yes, sir. We have secured Cras without a fight, but Varestand will not be so easy. We need your strength if we want to conquer it." Varkas exhales through his nose, sharp fangs flashing as he smirks. "A fortress city, strong defenses, and a Tier 5 barrier spell." He rolls his shoulders, the crack of his bones audible. "Now that sounds like a proper battle." Nyssara, standing nearby, grins. "You''re going to love this one, General. They''re dug in tight, ready to fight to the last." Varkas chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound. "Good. I''ve had enough of cities that crumble without a fight." His gaze shifts to the shadowy figure standing silently beside Sorin. The shadow straightens under the general''s piercing eyes. "What about Vaelith? Did he succeed in infiltrating the city?" Varkas asks, his tone curious. The shadow hesitates for a moment. "No, General Varkas. We''ve received reports that no matter what they attempt, they can''t get past the barrier. It''s as if the magic itself detects any attempt to bypass it." "Hmm... Don''t report this to His Majesty," Varkas commands, his voice steady but firm. "I''m sure His Majesty has an item that could shatter that barrier effortlessly. But if we can''t do this much, we aren''t worthy of being his subordinates." Chapter 104: We Do Not Kneel After that, they begin their preparations. Sorin, Nyssara, Thurn, and Veltha move swiftly, issuing commands to their troops. Each takes charge of their respective forces, ensuring their soldiers are fully armed and ready for the coming battle. Groth, the battle mage commander, gathers his spellcasters in the city''s plaza. The air hums with magic as they refine their incantations, preparing for large-scale assaults and counter-spells against Varestand''s barrier. Varkas oversees everything from a high vantage point, his sharp eyes tracking the organized chaos below. He watches as supplies are distributed, siege weapons are assembled, and warriors steel themselves for war. As noon approaches, the preparations near completion. The city of Cras, once eerily silent, now hums with the energy of an army on the move. Then, at last, Varkas raises a clawed hand. "Enough waiting," he growls. His voice carries over the gathered forces, heavy with authority. "We march." The command ripples through the ranks like a spark igniting dry grass. Sorin mounts her beast, her crimson eyes fixed on the path ahead. Nyssara and Veltha do the same, while Thurn and Groth fall into formation with their troops. The ground trembles as thousands of soldiers begin their advance, moving as one unified force toward Varestand. ----- After some time, they finally arrive at Varestand''s towering walls. Marshal Walric stands atop the battlements, his expression grim as he watches the enemy forces march forward. Even though he commands fifty thousand soldiers¡ªoutnumbering the enemy''s thirty thousand¡ªthe sheer bloodlust radiating from the approaching army is overwhelming. His men shift uneasily, gripping their weapons tighter, sensing the difference in battle intent. Then his gaze lifts, and his breath stills. Floating above the battlefield is the Lycanthrope general. Varkas hovers effortlessly, his crimson mane wild in the wind, his eyes burning like molten gold. The aura around him is suffocating, primal, and untamed. Even from this distance, Walric can feel it pressing down on him like an unseen weight. Walric clenches his fists, reminding himself that he is no weakling. At level 499, he is merely a step away from breaking into Tier 5. And yet, that final step is a chasm he cannot yet cross. The difference between a peak Tier 4 and an actual Tier 5 is like comparing a sturdy wall to an unbreakable mountain. Beside him, his five generals stand firm, each a Tier 4 powerhouse in their own right. One of them chuckles, attempting to lighten the tension. "Marshal, just relax," the man says with a smirk. "I can see you shaking even from here." Walric exhales sharply, eyes still locked onto Varkas. "If you''re so confident, why don''t you take the lead when the fighting starts?" Another general, a stocky man with a scar across his jaw, crosses his arms. "No need to worry. The enemy only has one Tier 4¡ªthier commander. With the four of us available, we can help you fight that monster." Walric snorts, turning to face them fully. His gaze sharpens. "Are you guys sure you want to fight a Tier 5 monster? Just the graze of a Tier 5 skill will kill any of you instantly." The generals exchange glances, their earlier confidence dimming just slightly. One of them, a lanky man with graying hair, shrugs. "We don''t have much of a choice, do we? If we let you fight alone, the army''s morale will shatter." "Besides," another one adds, rolling his shoulders, "we''re not planning to go toe-to-toe with him. We''ll support you, create openings, and buy some time." A third general, the youngest among them, tightens his grip on his sword. "If we fight smart, we can buy time. Time for a surprise." He exhales slowly. "We might not be strong enough to kill him, but we can surely do that." A sudden gust of wind howls across the battlefield as Varkas slowly descends, his massive frame casting a long shadow over the soldiers below. Then, his deep, rumbling voice cuts through the tension. "Humans," Varkas drawls, his tone laced with both mockery and authority. "His Majesty is merciful. He offers you a choice¡ªsurrender now and be spared, or stand against us and be slaughtered to the last." A ripple of unease spreads through the ranks of Raltheon soldiers. Even the most seasoned warriors grip their weapons tighter, feeling the weight of the Lycanthrope''s words. Some glance toward Walric, searching for reassurance. Walric steps forward, his face hardening. "And if we surrender, what then?" Varkas grins, his fangs glinting in the sunlight. "Then you will be given a new purpose under His Majesty''s rule. Resist, and your corpses will serve as a message to the rest of your kingdom." He raises a clawed hand, gesturing lazily toward the city. "Varestand will be ours, either way. The only question is whether you''ll be standing when the flames rise." Walric meets his gaze, unflinching. "The soldiers of Raltheon kingdom does not kneel!!!" Varkas chuckles, a low, guttural sound that rumbles like distant thunder. "Good," he murmurs. "I was hoping you''d say that." Varkas raises his hand, his claws crackling with dark crimson energy. The air grows heavy, thick with an oppressive force that makes the very ground tremble. A deep, guttural growl rumbles from his throat as he invokes his bloodline''s power. "Crimson Tyrant''s Grasp." A massive, glowing red lycanthrope hand materializes in the sky above, its size is quite big. The weight of its presence alone sends waves of pressure crashing down on the battlefield. Walric and his generals freeze. Their breaths grow ragged as an overwhelming sense of dread washes over them. It feels as if an entire mountain is descending from the heavens, threatening to crush them where they stand. The soldiers below fall to their knees, some gasping for air, others gripping their weapons in a futile attempt to fight against the suffocating force. Then, with a deafening roar, the crimson hand begins its descent. "Brace yourselves!" Walric shouts, tightening his grip on his halberd. His body screams at him to run, but he plants his feet firmly, refusing to show weakness. Just before the monstrous attack makes contact, the city''s defensive barrier activates. A radiant golden dome materializes, its surface shimmering as ancient runes ignite with power. The impact is cataclysmic. As the crimson hand collides with the barrier. A shockwave erupts outward, flattening trees and sending soldiers flying backward. The ground cracks, and the very air vibrates from the sheer force of the clash. Fine fractures spread across the golden dome like spiderwebs, the powerful defenses barely able to withstand the overwhelming might of a Tier 5 skill. Gasps of horror echo from the soldiers within as they watch their city''s last line of defense begin to fail. But just as suddenly as the cracks appear, they begin to mend. The golden light pulses, and in an instant, the barrier restores itself as if nothing had happened. The crimson hand flickers before shattering into nothingness, its energy spent. A tense silence falls over the battlefield. Then, like a trigger being pulled, one of the human general raises her staff high. "Now! Mages, unleash hell!" With a unified roar, the city''s spellcasters unleash a barrage of magical attacks. Fireballs, lightning bolts, and beams of raw arcane energy streak through the sky, converging upon Varkas and his forces. "Defensive formation! Now!" Nyssara''s voice cuts through the battlefield like a blade. The front lines of the monster army move in perfect synchronization. Towering warriors with massive shields slam them into the ground, a deep, resonating boom echoing as they activate their defensive skills. Layers of shimmering energy form over their bodies, and the very earth beneath them solidifies, reinforcing their stance. The sky erupts with fire and lightning as the human mages'' spells rain down, but the monstrous vanguard does not waver. Explosions ripple across their ranks, yet their defenses hold firm, absorbing the devastating impact. Smoke and dust swirl, momentarily obscuring the battlefield. Then, as the wind clears the haze, the monstrous shield-bearers remain standing¡ªunshaken. Nyssara smirks. "Hah. Not bad. Now¡ªretaliate." At his command, Groth raises his staff high, his eyes flashing with raw magic. "Mages! Counterattack! Show them our might!" A deafening surge of power erupts from the monstrous army''s side. Dark energy bolts, searing flames, and streaks of violet lightning crackle through the air, answering the human barrage with overwhelming force. The sky erupts in chaos. Spells clash midair, exploding in violent bursts of light and smoke. The battlefield trembles under the force of the exchange, but the city''s golden barrier¡ªthough flickering¡ªstill holds. Then a soldier come to Walric. "Marshal! It''s time!" Walric''s eyes narrow. "Are you certain?" "The mages in the tower have begun casting. The barrier will collapse in moments. You must hold the enemy until we are finished!" A heavy silence follows. Then, Walric exhales sharply and grips his sword and shield. "Understood. Tell them that we''ll hold the line." The moment the golden barrier vanishes, the battlefield freezes. For a heartbeat, neither side moves. Then¡ªVarkas acts. With a feral snarl, the Lycanthrope general vanishes from sight, a blur of motion too fast for the human eye to track. BOOM! He lands in the heart of the city like a meteor, the impact sending a shockwave through the streets. Stone shatters beneath his feet, and buildings tremble from the force of his landing. Dust and debris swirl around him as he straightens, his golden eyes gleaming with anticipation. Before he can take another step, a figure streaks toward him. CLANG! Walric''s shield slams into Varkas''s raised arm, the impact ringing out like a thunderclap. The sheer force of the collision sends a ripple through the ground, cracking the stone beneath their feet. Varkas grins, unfazed. "You humans are quite brave." His voice rumbles, thick with amusement. Chapter 105: The Struggle Of The Weak The four generals waste no time. The scarred general, Orin, swings his massive battle axe in a brutal arc, aiming for Varkas''s exposed ribs. The strike connects, but instead of flesh, the blade meets something far denser¡ªbone-like armor hidden beneath his fur. Sparks fly as the axe skids off, he didn''t even leave a shallow wound. "Hah! Tough bastard," Orin mutters, yanking his weapon back. The lanky general, Jupus, steps in next, his twin daggers flashing. He moves like a wind, his blades seeking weak points in Varkas''s defense. He strikes at the joints, the tendons, the unarmored patches of fur¡ªeach cut precise, calculated. Varkas moves with supernatural speed, twisting his body to avoid the worst of the attacks. "Not bad," he growls. Then, with a sudden burst of strength, he swipes at Jupus with his massive claw. Jupus barely dodges¡ªthe tips of Varkas''s claws graze his chestplate, carving deep gashes into the steel. He grits his teeth and rolls away, breathing hard. The youngest general, Elaine, channels a surge of magic into her sword. Crackling blue energy ignites along the blade''s edge. With a powerful leap, she swings downward, aiming for Varkas''s shoulder. Varkas doesn''t move. He stands still, his golden eyes watching as Elaine''s enchanted sword descends upon him. The blade crackles with raw energy, humming with the power of a Tier 4 skill. Thunderfang Strike! The moment the sword connects, an explosion of blue lightning erupts. The sheer force of the impact sends shockwaves rippling through the air, shaking the surrounding buildings. A blinding flash engulfs the area, forcing soldiers to shield their eyes. When the light fades, Elaine stumbles back, her breathing ragged. Her sword is still crackling with residual energy, the scent of burnt ozone thick in the air. Varkas remains unmoved. He stands there, completely unharmed. The spot where Elaine''s blade struck¡ªhis shoulder¡ªbears not a single wound. Not a burn mark, not a scratch. He rolls his shoulder lazily, as if shaking off a speck of dust. Elaine''s eyes widen. "Impossible..." Before she can react, Varkas moves. His hand snaps out like a viper, seizing Elaine by the throat. He lifts her effortlessly off the ground, his grip tightening just enough to make her struggle. "That was cute," he chuckles, his golden eyes gleaming. "But let me show you the difference between us." Before he can finish, a burning wave of power surges through the air. "Wrath Of The War God!" Orin charges, his entire body engulfed in a furious red aura. His axe glows a deep, blood-red, and as he swings, the sheer force of the strike warps the air around it. This is his strongest Tier 4 skill¡ªan attack that has cleaved through castle walls. Varkas simply raises a hand. The axe connects with his palm. A deafening shockwave explodes outward, sending debris flying in every direction. The sheer force of Orin''s swing causes the ground beneath them to shatter. Soldiers are forced to shield themselves from the blast. But Varkas remains completely still. He doesn''t even flinch. His hand grips the edge of the axe, stopping it in place with terrifying ease. Orin grits his teeth, pushing with all his strength, veins bulging. But it''s useless. "That all you got?" Varkas asks, a flicker of disappointment in his voice. Then, without warning, he wrenches the axe out of Orin''s grip and swings his other arm. BOOM! Orin is sent hurtling backward, crashing through a ruined stone wall and disappearing into the rubble. "Orin!" Jupus snarls. He moves in a blur, twin daggers coated in a dark, venomous sheen as he activates his own Tier 4 skill. "Phantom Serpent''s Dance!" Jupus''s movements become unpredictable, his speed doubling as afterimages of himself flicker around Varkas. His daggers strike from every direction, targeting Varkas''s joints, his neck, his eyes¡ªany vulnerable point. His claws swipe through the air with inhuman precision. Every strike Jupus makes is intercepted, his daggers meeting Varkas''s claws in rapid succession. Sparks fly as steel clashes against his indestructible flesh. Jupus''s attacks blur together, too fast for normal eyes to follow. But Varkas... he sees everything. Then¡ªhe steps forward. Jupus barely has time to react. A fist slams into his gut. Jupus gasps, blood spurting from his mouth as he is lifted off the ground. The sheer force of the blow sends a shockwave through his body, his ribs audibly cracking. Then, Varkas swings again, sending him skidding across the battlefield. He doesn''t get up. The final general, a powerful mage named Selian, raises his staff, his expression grim. "If brute force won''t work, then let''s even the odds." Selian slams his staff into the ground. Arcane symbols flare to life beneath him, golden energy surging outward like a tidal wave. "Divine Embrace!" A radiant glow spreads across Walric and the remaining generals. Their wounds begin closing, their strength replenishing. More than that¡ªa golden aura coats their weapons, enhancing their attacks. Their speed, their power, their endurance¡ªeverything is pushed beyond their limits. Varkas watches, intrigued. "Hmm? A Tier 4 buff spell?" He tilts his head. "Alright. Let''s see if it makes a difference." Walric grips his sword tighter. The golden energy pulses through his veins, filling him with renewed strength. "This is our last chance!" he roars. "Everyone, attack together!" Elaine, still gasping for breath, nods. Orin, battered but not broken, grips his axe once more. Jupus, despite his cracked ribs, forces himself to stand. Selian begins chanting another spell. They move as one. Elaine strikes first. Her sword blazes with golden lightning, the power of the Divine Embrace amplifying her Thunderfang Strike tenfold. Orin follows up, his axe shrouded in fiery energy as he swings with all his might. Jupus vanishes in a flicker of shadow, reappearing behind Varkas, his daggers flashing toward the Lycanthrope''s spine. And Walric¡ªWalric activates his strongest skill. "Judgment Breaker!" His sword ignites in pure, searing white energy, the very air vibrating from the sheer power contained within. He lunges, aiming straight for Varkas''s heart. The attacks land. A massive explosion engulfs the battlefield, golden light flooding the streets. The sheer force of their combined assault sends shockwaves tearing through buildings, shattering stone and glass. The ground itself cracks under the impact. Chapter 106: Tier 5 Spells, Oblivion Spear For a moment¡ªjust a moment¡ªhope flickers in their eyes. Then the dust clears. And Varkas stands there. The only sign that he was even hit¡ªthin, shallow scratches across his arms and chest. His golden eyes burn with excitement. "Now that... that actually tickled." Elaine stares in disbelief. "No... no way..." As the golden light fades, dust and debris swirl through the air. Soldiers squint through the haze, waiting¡ªhoping¡ªto see their enemy fall. But as the dust settles, a massive, unmoving silhouette emerges. Varkas still stands. His eyes gleam with something between amusement and disappointment. His fur, once pristine, now bears faint scorch marks. A thin, almost imperceptible cut decorates his cheek, a single drop of dark blood trickling down. He touches the wound absentmindedly, then chuckles. "There''s still more?" His deep, rumbling voice carries across the battlefield, filled with quiet mockery. Walric feels his stomach drop. He can see it in the others¡ªthe exhaustion, the creeping despair. Even with their strongest attacks, they''ve only managed a scratch. Elaine stumbles back, her hands shaking around her sword. "We... we gave it everything." Orin grits his teeth, sweat dripping down his brow. "That monster is still standing like it was nothing." Jupus, despite the pain in his ribs, forces a smirk. "At least we made him bleed. That''s something, right?" Walric grips his sword tightly. His body is screaming at him, his muscles burning with exhaustion. He refuses to let it show. "We''re not done yet," he growls. Then, the air shifts. A deep, resonant hum echoes across the battlefield. The ground trembles as an invisible force pulls at the air itself, drawing all mana toward a single point. Every soldier, every monster¡ªevery living being on the battlefield feels it. A force beyond comprehension, an oppressive weight pressing down on their very souls. Walric''s eyes widen. "The Mage Tower..." High above the battlefield, the towering spire hums with raw, concentrated mana. The sky above it darkens, swirling with storm clouds. But this is no ordinary storm¡ªstreaks of violet lightning arc across the heavens, twisting unnaturally as if alive. The very air vibrates, charged with an immense, terrifying energy. Selian staggers, his breath hitching. "They did it... The Tier 5 spell is complete." Varkas watches the tower, eyes narrowing slightly. "Oh?" The hum intensifies. Arcane symbols blaze into existence across the surface of the tower, ancient runes pulsing with unimaginable power. Mana is no longer merely being drawn in¡ªit is being devoured, sucked into a singularity forming at the tower''s peak. A voice, deep and resonant, echoes across the battlefield. It is not a single voice, but many¡ªlayered, overlapping, the synchronized chant of dozens of mages speaking as one. The words are ancient, older than kingdoms, a language of pure magic. "In the name of the first flame, in the shadow of the abyss, we call forth the judgment of the heavens." The sky darkens further. The swirling vortex above the Mage Tower expands, stretching across the battlefield. The very fabric of reality groans under the pressure of the spell. Lightning does not merely strike¡ªit coils and writhes, seeking form, growing denser with each passing second. Varkas''s amused expression falters ever so slightly. He does not fear magic, but he recognizes power. And this... this is something else. The chanting continues, rising in intensity. "By the blood of the ancients, by the will of the stars, we unshackle the wrath long bound." The ground quakes violently. The air itself becomes difficult to breathe, as if all the mana in the world is being funneled into one singular point. Walric forces himself to stand despite the weight pressing down on him. His fingers tighten around his sword. "This... this is beyond anything we''ve ever used before." Elaine stares up at the sky, sweat rolling down her temple. "I''ve read about Tier 5 spells, but to witness one..." Selian, still on the ground, manages a weak, knowing grin. "Not just any Tier 5 spell... this one is destruction incarnate." Above the tower, the vortex of lightning begins to take shape¡ªa colossal spear, formed of pure, condensed mana. It crackles with terrifying power, its very presence warping the sky around it. It is not fire, nor ice, nor light¡ªthis is something primal, something far older than mortal magic. A weapon of annihilation. The final words of the chant echo like a divine decree. "Oblivion Spear." The moment the words are spoken, the spell is unleashed. The spear descends. For a fraction of a second, time itself seems to stop. The world holds its breath. Then¡ª A cataclysm. The battlefield is drowned in blinding light. The impact is unlike anything ever witnessed before. The sheer force of the descent fractures the very ground, shockwaves rippling outward with the force of a thousand storms. The city trembles as buildings crumble under the weight of the energy released. Soldiers are flung back like leaves in a hurricane. And at the center of it all¡ªVarkas. A deafening, defiant sound that echoes through the chaos. The Oblivion Spear strikes. A blinding explosion engulfs the battlefield, swallowing everything in its path. The shockwave expands outward. For long, excruciating seconds, the world is nothing but light and fury. Then¡ªsilence. Thick smoke blankets the battlefield. The once-proud streets are reduced to molten craters. The land itself is scarred, burned black by the sheer force of the spell. The silence is deafening. Walric stares at the destruction, his breathing ragged. The battlefield¡ªno, the very land itself¡ªis unrecognizable. The sheer force of the spell has carved a massive crater into the earth, its edges still glowing with molten heat. The air is thick with ash and mana residue, distorting everything like a mirage. He swallows hard. His hands tremble. This... this is what a Tier 5 spell is. He finally understands. The reason he has never broken through. The reason so few ever do. It''s not a matter of talent. Not a matter of training. It''s because Tier 5 spells or skills is beyond human. Even standing near it, witnessing it with his own eyes, he can feel it¡ªthis power doesn''t just require mastery. It requires something else entirely. Something more. Chapter 107: Keep No One Alive His grip loosens on his sword. A bitter realization settles in his chest. "Can I even reach that level...?" he mutters under his breath. Elaine glances at him, but she has no answer. No one does. Then¡ª The smoke shifts. A gust of wind rushes through the battlefield, parting the thick haze of destruction. And there, standing at the center of the devastation, is Varkas. He''s alive. His massive frame is hunched forward, his claws dug into the scorched ground to keep himself upright. His fur, once pristine, is now singed and tattered. Blood drips from countless wounds, staining the cracked earth beneath him. His breathing is labored, his chest rising and falling in heavy, ragged motions. But his golden eyes burn brighter than ever. "That..." Varkas exhales, then grins, sharp and wild. "That almost got me." He straightens slowly, the faint tremble in his limbs betraying the toll the spell has taken. His muscles pulse with residual energy, the lingering effects of the buffs he activated just in time. His Tier 4 reinforcement buffs. His singular Tier 5 enhancement. And¡ªmost crucially¡ªhis bloodline''s Tier 5 skill. His body has changed. His once-dark fur now bears streaks of silver, crackling faintly with latent energy. His claws, longer and sharper, shimmer with a faint, unnatural glow. The air around him feels heavier¡ªdenser. More than just a beast. More than just a warrior. He breathes in deeply, the scent of scorched earth filling his lungs. Then he exhales, rolling his shoulders. "That spell... Something only a level 560+ being could conjure, and it''s fucking hurt getting hit by it." Varkas thought. Walric watches, a cold pit forming in his stomach. Even after all of that¡ªeven after facing the full might of a Tier 5 annihilation spell¡ªVarkas is still standing. Not unscathed. But alive. And worse¡ªhe looks excited. Elaine grips her sword tightly, her knuckles white. "That thing... just what is he?" No one answers. Because at this moment, they all feel it. The difference. The gap between them and Varkas. Varkas clenches his fists, his claws digging into his own palms. His entire body trembles¡ªnot from pain, but from rage. He made a promise. A simple promise. "I will not put myself in danger." His Majesty had ordered him. And yet, here he is¡ªbattered, burned, bloodied. By a bunch of humans who weren''t even Tier 5. His fury boils over. And then¡ªhe vanishes. A blur of motion. Faster than sight. Faster than thought. Before anyone can react¡ª Shunk. Selian''s head rolls across the scorched ground. His body remains standing for a fraction of a second before crumpling. Silence. Elaine lets out a strangled gasp. Jupus''s eyes widen in horror. Orin stumbles back. Then¡ª Shunk. Jupus doesn''t even have time to scream before his body is cleaved in two. Orin also died in seconds. Three generals. Dead. Just like that. The battlefield stands frozen, every soldier paralyzed by sheer terror. And then¡ª "STOP, YOU FUCKING MONSTER!" Marshal Walric''s roar cuts through the silence. He charges, sword raised, desperation and fury in his eyes. Varkas barely spares him a glance. With a flick of his wrist, his clawed hand swings. BOOM. Walric is sent flying. His body slams into the ruined stone wall of a half-destroyed building, the impact loud enough to crack bone. He crumples to the ground, coughing blood. His entire body screams in agony. Walric forces himself to move, pushing through the agony. Every breath feels like fire in his lungs, but he doesn''t stop. He can''t. Not now. Not when the entire battlefield is crumbling into despair. With blood dripping from his lips, he lifts his head and roars¡ª "RETREAT!!!" His voice echoes across the ruins, raw and desperate. "ALL UNITS, FALL BACK! NOW!" Soldiers snap out of their frozen terror. The moment the order registers, chaos erupts. Boots slam against shattered stone, armor clanks as they turn and flee, scrambling over debris and bodies alike. Elaine hesitates, her trembling hands gripping her sword. "Walric¡ª!" "GO!" he snarls, eyes locked onto the towering figure in front of him. Varkas watches, eyes flickering with amusement as the army scatters. "They run well," he muses. Then he turns his gaze back to Walric, tilting his head. "But, you won''t run?" Walric plants his feet, his entire body pulsing with golden light. Every buff he has. Every ounce of strength he can squeeze from his battered frame. A last stand. Even if it''s just for seconds. He knows he can''t win. But if he can hold enemy down, if he can give them time¡ª That will be enough. He grips his sword with both hands, the runes along the blade igniting with violent energy. "You..." he spits blood onto the ground. "You''re not getting past me." Varkas watches him for a moment, head slightly tilted, as if trying to understand the sheer stubbornness in front of him. Then, he exhales through his nose. His massive shoulders relax just a fraction, the tension in his claws easing. His eyes glint in the flickering light of the battlefield. "Since you''re so determined..." He takes a step forward. The ground beneath his foot cracks. "I''ll kill you in one swift move." Walric grits his teeth, every muscle in his body coiled tight. His aura flares violently, golden energy wrapping around his battered form like a final, desperate shield. His mind is racing, searching for anything¡ªany opening, any chance¡ª But Varkas moves first. Faster than thought. A blur. And then¡ª The world tilts. Walric doesn''t feel pain at first. Just a sudden, terrifying lightness. Then¡ª A wet thud. His body collapses to the ground. But his head... His vision spins, and he sees it¡ªthe battlefield, the retreating soldiers, Elaine screaming his name¡ª And then, darkness. As the dust settles from Varkas''s final strike, a figure appears beside him¡ªswift and silent. Her gaze assessing the scene. Her eyes linger on the smoldering battlefield, the scattered corpses, and the lingering remnants of the Tier 5 annihilation spell. "General," Sorin speaks evenly, her voice sharp yet composed. "I saw that spell from the Mage Tower. I didn''t think it would actually push you this far." Chapter 108: Building Blueprints Varkas wipes the blood from his jaw, his eyes still sharp but calmer. "Those humans... they were more troublesome than expected." Sorin''s gaze flicks to the retreating army. Soldiers are scattered, stumbling over debris, their faces painted with terror. "Sir, should we go after the fleeing enemy?" Varkas snorts, rolling his shoulders. "There''s no need. The shadows will take care of them." Elaine leads the retreat, her legs heavy, her mind numb. The image of her fallen companions¡ªSelian, Jupus, Orin, and Walric¡ªflashes over and over. Her breaths come in ragged gasps, but she forces herself to keep running, leading the survivors. Five thousand soldiers¡ªjust a fraction of what they were¡ªtrailing behind her. Then, shadows move. Figures emerge¡ªswift, ruthless, silent. One by one, the fleeing soldiers fall. Blood splatters, cries of desperation pierce the chaos. Elaine''s heart pounds. She grits her teeth, forcing her eyes forward¡ªuntil a presence materializes before her. Vaelith. His cold, impassive gaze meets hers. His twin daggers gleam, still wet with blood. Elaine''s heart tightens. Her grip on her sword trembles. "Why?!" she screams, her voice strained and desperate. "We''re already retreating! Why do you have to go this far?!" Vaelith''s eyes narrow, his expression unyielding. "Why?" he repeats, his voice a chilling calm. "We are at war. This is what happens when you make an enemy of His Majesty." Elaine''s breath catches, her heart sinking as she stares into Vaelith''s unyielding eyes. There is no remorse¡ªno hesitation. Only cold, calculated duty. --- News of the devastating defeat at Varestand City spreads swiftly across the Raltheon Kingdom, carried by messengers whose faces are etched with dread. Rumors of Marshal Walric''s fall and the annihilation of fifty thousand soldiers ripple like a shockwave. Panic grips the city closest to Varestand. Families abandon their homes, carts overflowing with hastily packed belongings. Streets once bustling with merchants and traders now echo with the clamor of fearful footsteps. Mothers clutch their children tightly, men hurriedly secure what little valuables they can carry, and guards struggle to maintain some semblance of order. "They''re coming... The monsters will come here next!" a man shouts, his voice thick with fear. "Varestand fell! Not a single one of them made it back!" a woman wails. Inside the royal palace, in the grandeur of the royal chamber, King Edric slumps on his throne. His face is ashen, his fingers digging into the gilded armrests. He stares blankly at the ground, his mind grappling with disbelief. "No... How did this happen?" Edric''s voice trembles, hollow and strained. "We poured everything into Varestand¡ªresources, soldiers, our greatest mages. And still... we lost? Not a single soldier survived?" Beside him, Queen Nefia stands silently. Her hand rests gently on his shoulder, a steady presence amidst the storm of despair. Though her expression remains composed, her grip on Edric tightens, grounding him. "Edric..." she begins softly, but there is no continuation¡ªno assurance she can offer. What words could mend the shattering truth before them? Edric''s gaze hardens, frustration bubbling beneath his grief. His fists clench, knuckles whitening. "Our kingdom... Our people... If fifty thousand soldiers could not hold them back, then what chance do we have?" Queen Nefia moves to face him, her eyes searching his. "We still stand," she whispers firmly. "Raltheon still stands. As long as we do, there is a chance." Edric''s expression falters, the weight of his doubt bearing down on him. For a moment, silence fills the chamber, heavy and suffocating. Then, Nefia''s voice breaks through gently, yet resolute. "Husband, what if we try to speak with them? What if we invite the king of the monsters and seek a truce? Perhaps there is a way to end this peacefully." Edric''s eyes widen slightly, surprise flickering across his face. "A truce? With them? After all we''ve done to the monsters over the years¡ªslaughtering their kind, pushing them back, making them our slaves¡ªI don''t think they would consider peace now, when they have every reason to seek revenge?" Nefia meets his gaze firmly. "And yet, if we do nothing, what future is left for Raltheon? If there is even the slightest chance that a dialogue could save our people, shouldn''t we take it? Isn''t it worth trying?" He sighs heavily. "Even if we wanted to... even if we reached out, would they listen? What reason would they have to trust us now? To forgive us, when they hold every advantage?" Nefia''s grip on his arm strengthens. "I don''t know," she admits quietly. "But I know that if we do nothing, we condemn our people to death. If there is a chance¡ªhowever small¡ªwe owe it to them to try." Edric closes his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face. The thought of kneeling before the monsters, seeking peace, goes against every instinct he has as a king. But the faces of his people¡ªtheir fear, their desperation, press on his heart. "Send out a messenger," he finally says, his voice strained. "Extend the offer. If the king of monsters refuses... then we prepare for the worst." Nefia''s shoulders ease slightly, a glimmer of hope softening her gaze. "Thank you, Edric. For considering it." --- Inside his work chamber, Alix leans back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the transparent floating screen before him. The golden numbers, 1,500,000 gold coins, gleam brightly. The spoils from Varestand City''s fall have added a significant boost to his resources. "Who should I revive...?" Alix mutters to himself, fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk. Names and faces of powerful figures flash through his mind, warriors of immense strength, mages capable of calling forth disaster with their spells, strategists who had aided him greatly. The power to bring any of them back is in his grasp. "No... I should use this money to build something," he muses, his gaze narrowing. "To strengthen the cities, to give them purpose." He has four cities now under his banner. The system can build upon them, as long as he has blueprints and gold coins. In his system inventory, countless building blueprints sit untouched. Standing, Alix pulls up the map of his growing kingdom on the screen. Each city marked, his capital, Misorn, Varestand, Delon, Cras. Each unique, but undefined. They need identity, a reason to thrive beyond just serving as territories. Chapter 109: New Look Of His Four City (part 1) After settling on his plans for each city''s development, Alix calls for Thano. As he waits, he recalls the nature of the blueprints within his system inventory. Blueprints have distinct rarities, bronze at the lowest, followed by iron, silver, gold, diamond, and the rarest of them all, divine. Divine blueprints are so rare that out of millions of players in the game, there are only a thousand in total own by players, more precious than even divine items. Alix doesn''t have a divine blueprint; the odds of obtaining one are nearly nonexistent. They drop randomly from bosses or dungeons, pure luck. Furthermore, iron-tier blueprints and above require a builder to construct, which is why Thano''s expertise is necessary. A firm knock on the chamber doors pulls Alix from his thoughts. "Enter," he calls. Thano steps inside, a tall, robust man with a composed demeanor. His neatly tied gray hair and sharp eyes reflect years of experience managing constructions and urban planning. "Your Majesty," Thano bows slightly. "You called for me?" "Yes, Thano. I have plans for our cities," Alix begins, looking at the floating screen displaying the kingdom''s map. "I want each city to have its own identity. I''ve been sitting on these blueprints for too long, and it''s time to put them to use." Thano steps closer, studying the screen. "A wise choice, Your Majesty. Our cities need a foundation to thrive, something beyond just military strength." "Exactly," Alix nods. "I want Misorn to be a center of everything. A Great city, where you can do anything. For Varestand, an academy to train mage. The third city, Delon, will become an Artisan''s City, a place known for craftsmanship and creating valuable artifacts. And Cras... A trade Hub with a Grand Market." Thano listens intently, his eyes sharp. "Ambitious, but achievable with your resources, Your Majesty. However, the construction of these will require skilled workers, materials, and time. Some of the higher-tier blueprints, iron and above will need my oversight to ensure efficiency." "That''s why I need you," Alix says. "I have the blueprints and the gold. I need you to coordinate the workforce and ensure these cities develop according to this vision." Thano''s lips curve into a slight smile. "Leave it to me, Your Majesty. I''ll begin organizing the builders and resources immediately." After Thano leaves, Alix returns to his seat, his thoughts still lingering on the ambitious plans for his cities. He barely has a moment to collect himself when another knock sounds at the door. "Enter," Alix says. The door opens, and Sissari steps inside. Sissari''s presence carries an air of sophistication. Her eyes glimmer with intelligence, and her long, sleek black hair is tied in an elegant knot. As the minister of foreign affairs, Sissari''s insight into diplomacy and politics is unmatched. "Your Majesty," Sissari begins with a respectful bow. "I bring news from the Raltheon Kingdom. They''ve requested a peace talk. They wish to discuss terms of truce." Alix leans back in his chair, fingers interlaced as he contemplates the message. "A peace talk, huh...?" Sissari studies his expression carefully. "Should we accept it, Your Majesty?" After a brief pause, Alix meets her gaze. "What do you think, Sissari? How should we approach this?" Sissari''s lips curl thoughtfully. "Your Majesty, while accepting the truce could allow us to focus on strengthening our kingdom and solidifying our gains, there is also merit in pushing them further, forcing them into a corner where they have no choice but to become a subject state. We hold the upper hand, and many of our citizens demand retribution after years of oppression and slaughter." Alix nods slowly. The weight of history hangs heavy, the suffering of the monstes in this world, enslaved, hunted, and treated as little more than vermin by the human kingdoms. The momentum of victory is with them now, and the monsters who have suffered for so long look to him for justice. His thoughts drift to the refugees monsters who have fled from Raltheon, Ordeya, and Valgros to find safety in his lands. Their faces, scarred by fear and loss, flash through his mind. They don''t just want peace; they want justice, vengeance for what was taken from them. "You''re right," Alix finally says, his voice resolute. "We won''t settle for just a truce. We''ll drive them to the edge until submission is their only choice." Sissari''s eyes gleam with approval. "Understood, Your Majesty. Shall I craft a response that maintains the appearance of considering their offer while we continue our advance?" "Yes," Alix replies firmly. "Delay the talks. Keep them uncertain. In the meantime, we strengthen our defenses, consolidate our territories, and make sure every monster under our banner knows this is their home, a place where they are safe, but also a place that will fight for their right to exist." Sissari bows deeply. "As you command, Your Majesty. I will see to it immediately." As she leaves, Alix''s gaze shifts back to the map on the floating screen. The Raltheon Kingdom is weakened, its people fearful, its leadership desperate. Yet, they still hold onto their arrogance, the belief that monsters are beneath them. --- A month passed by, and the once-quiet cities of Alix''s growing kingdom are now bustling with life. The air of each city are filled with the sound of hammers striking metal, saws slicing through wood, and the chatter of citizens eager for a future beyond survival. In Misorn, Thano''s vision begins to take shape. Streets are widened, new buildings rise, and marketplaces expand. Merchants from various monster races set up shops, orc blacksmiths selling finely crafted weapons, goblin engineers displaying intricate contraptions, and alchemists brewing potent elixirs. Misorn is becoming a city where anyone no matter their race or background, can find purpose. In Varestand, the Academy of Arcane Arts stands as a towering structure of stone and enchanted crystal. Mages from different races, many of whom had once hidden their abilities for fear of persecution, now openly practice and learn. Young monsters practice incantations in designated training grounds, their eyes filled with hope and ambition. The streets hum with the presence of scholars, apprentices, and instructors sharing knowledge long forbidden. Delon, the Artisan''s City, overflows with creativity. Artisans carve sculptures, weave enchanted fabrics, and forge weapons that hold intricate designs. Chapter 110: New Look Of His Four City (part 2) The forges blaze day and night, and the sound of hammering echoes through the streets. A blacksmith and an artisan argue playfully over the best forging techniques, drawing a small crowd amused by their passionate banter. Crafting guilds are established, and competitions of artistry foster friendly rivalry. In Cras, the Trade Hub, the Grand Market teems with life. Stalls overflow with goods, fresh produce from monster farms, jewelry crafted from rare ores, and exotic beasts tamed by experienced handlers. Caravans from Misorn and Varestand travel to Cras, turning the roads into lifelines of commerce. Trade agreements are negotiated, and the human merchants from the three kingdoms coming regularly curious about this kingdom of monsters. The atmosphere is a blend of excitement and curiosity, with whispers of prosperity on everyone''s lips. ---- Inside his private chamber, Alix observes the system screen, his eyes fixed on the population counter as it finally reaches 500,000. A golden notification appears, and a surge of power rushes through him, his level unlocks, climbing to 500. Alix clenches his fist, feeling the strength coursing through his body. "Finally... Level 500," he murmurs, a small smile of satisfaction crossing his face. The experienced he''s gained from the battles, the growth of his kingdom, everything culminates in this moment. But then his gaze shifts to the requirement for the next level. "Requirement to unlock Level 600: Two million citizens." His excitement fades, his expression falling. "Two million... That''s a lot." Reclining back in his chair, Alix releases a breath. The growth so far has been significant, but reaching two million citizens will be a monumental challenge. Expanding territory, accepting more refugees, everything will have to be amplified. A knock on the door interrupts his thoughts. "Your Majesty, may I come in?" Recognizing Draya''s voice, Alix straightens. "Enter." Draya steps inside, a warm smile on her face. "I brought you some tea, Your Majesty. You seem deep in thought." Alix chuckles softly, the tension easing. "Just considering the future, Draya. There''s still so much to do." Draya sets the tray of tea on the small table beside Alix. The fragrant aroma of herbs fills the room, soothing yet invigorating. She pours a cup and hands it to him with a gentle smile. Alix takes a sip, savoring the warmth. "Draya, what do you think of the current state of the kingdom?" Draya''s expression turns thoughtful. "Your Majesty, although it''s still far from what our kingdom used to be, it''s progressing rapidly faster than I expected. That''s a testament to your brilliance and leadership." Alix chuckles, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "It''s good to hear." Draya laughs softly, her golden eyes glimmering. "The people believe in you, they see the changes, the hope you''ve brought. That''s not an easy feat, especially after all they''ve endured." Alix''s gaze shifts to the floating screen, the ever-present system that monitors his kingdom. The weight of responsibility lingers, but so does the satisfaction of knowing their efforts are bearing fruit. "Well then," Alix sets the teacup down and stands. "I think it''s time I get back to training. I need to familiarize myself with the new skills and spells I''ve unlocked." Draya nods, her expression encouraging. "Of course, Your Majesty. Should I prepare anything for your training session?" Alix waves a hand dismissively but with a grin. "No need. I just need to see what these new Tier 5 skills can do. Besides, it''ll be good to push myself a little." With a respectful bow, Draya watches as Alix leaves the chamber. After some time, Alix exits the training chamber, his steps light and a satisfied smile lingering on his face. The power of the Tier 5 skills still thrums within him, each spell felt like wielding the force of a storm. The sheer destructive capability and control they grant are beyond any tier 4 skills or spells. "Tier 5... It''s a whole different realm of power," he mutters to himself. "I can see why beings who reach this level are considered legends in the three kingdoms." As the rush of excitement gradually settles, Alix straightens his posture and nods firmly. "Next, I need to visit the cities one by one. I want to see how much progress Thano has made." Standing alone in his private chamber. Despite all he''s achieved, he realizes that the people know of their king but have never truly seen him. His rule is felt through the laws, the protection, and the progress, but his presence remains a mystery, a legend whispered in the streets. "Maybe it''s time I change that, but not right now." Alix muses, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Alix activates his item, altering his appearance. His towering, imposing figure shifts, his features now those of a common hobgoblin. His skin turns a dusky green, his ears slightly pointed, and his build sturdy but not overly imposing. Dressed in simple, rugged clothes, he looks like any other hobgoblin. With a focused thought, Alix activates his teleportation skill, and the world around him blurs briefly before solidifying again. He is in the Alleyway where no one can see him teleported. Alix steps out into the bustling streets of the city. The lively chatter of monsters fills the air, orc merchants bargaining, goblins darting between stalls, and trolls casually guarding the gates. His keen gaze captures the intricate blend of cultures converging in this city. As he walks, a group of younger monsters, natives of the forest, mostly goblins and kobolds pass by, talking excitedly. "Did you hear?" a goblin says. "They say a Ogres joined the army. A real one!" "An Ogres?" a kobold yips, wide-eyed. "I thought they were just a myth!" "Nah," the goblin grins, pride gleaming in his eyes. "Not anymore. There''s a lot of monsters like that now." Alix chuckles softly, amused by their enthusiasm. When he first arrived, a hobgoblin alone was enough to be considered a legend, an apex predator of the forest. But now, they stroll the streets like regular citizens. Creatures once feared and whispered about now stand as neighbors. Chapter 111: My Kingdom Is Taking Shape As he continues, a group of orcs and lizardfolk sit at a makeshift tavern, drinking and sharing tales. "I heard one of the minotaurs broke a training dummy clean in half," an orc rumbles. "Just with a headbutt!" The lizardfolk flicks his tongue thoughtfully. "Who would''ve thought that we monsters would have a day like this." The orc leans back, his drink sloshing slightly in his mug. "Do you know the appearance of our king? He made all this, made us live comfortably. We should at least remember his face, we don''t even know our king''s name." The lizardman shrugs, his scaled tail curling lazily. "No one knows the appearance of our king. There''s a rumor, though that the capital city of the kingdom is so majestic that soldiers say it''s like something out of a storybook." The orc grunts, a hint of envy in his tone. "That''s right. I tried to apply to become a soldier, but I didn''t pass. Those who make it into the capital never want to leave. Must be something to see." Similar conversations echo throughout the streets, from the lively market corners to the shadowed alleys. Stories of the unseen king who united them all are shared by old warriors and young monsters alike. Alix listens quietly, the corners of his mouth curving into a faint smile. It''s a curious experience to hear his own mythos recounted to him, exaggerated and reshaped by each telling. Eventually, Alix''s steps take him to the heart of Misorn, where several inns stand side by side. Some are modest, catering to travelers passing through, while others boast larger, more established presences. However, at the center of it all stands The Iron Hearth Inn, one of his blueprints. The building''s structure is solid and polished. The walls are reinforced stone, but the windows and archways have artistic carvings that reflect a monster''s craftsmanship. He steps inside, and the atmosphere is immediately welcoming. Laughter and conversation fill the air. A group of goblins bicker playfully with a troll bartender, while a gnoll waitress serves drinks with a toothy grin. Despite the diversity of the patrons, there''s a sense of camaraderie, like everyone here belongs. Alix notes the staff, efficient, polite, and seamless in their work. The blueprints he created, just like in the game, don''t only provide the structure but also the people to maintain it. Workers who seem as if they have their own lives, personalities. It still amazes him sometimes, how the game mechanics have molded reality here. As Alix steps deeper into the bustling inn, several staff members glance his way. There''s a brief flicker of recognition in their eyes, a glimmer that tells him they know exactly who he is, their king, their creator. Despite his changed appearance, no disguise can fool those born from his blueprints. But Alix''s thoughts reach out, a silent command that echoes through their minds. "Just act like I''m not here." "Welcome to The Iron Hearth! What can I get for you today?" she asks, her voice chipper and genuine. Alix smiles, playing the part of a regular customer. "Just a meal, something hearty. And a drink to go with it." "Coming right up!" the gnoll chirps, jotting down the order before moving away. Alix chooses a seat near a window, his gaze drifting over the lively patrons. Conversations overlap, adventurers boasting of their hunts, traders discussing deals, a trio of young goblins eagerly planning to explore the dungeon. As Alix quietly eats his meal, a group of monsters at the table beside him start a lively conversation. There are two wolfkin, a lizardfolk, and a Satyrs, their plates half-empty and mugs clinking occasionally. "Hey, do you guys want to check out the new dungeon that''s about to open?" The wolfkin says, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Yeah, I do!" the Satyrs replies eagerly. "But I heard you need to be at least Tier 2 to enter it, or have a Tier 2 in your group." The other wolfkin grumbles, scratching his head. "Tier 2, huh? I''m still Tier 1... barely got any skills worth bragging about." The lizardman leans back with a smug flick of his tail. "Well, then you''re in luck. I just broke through to Tier 2 yesterday." The group pauses, staring at the lizardman in surprise. "Seriously?" the Satyrs asks, his eyes wide. "That''s awesome!" The orc with the chipped tusk slaps the lizardman''s shoulder with a hearty laugh. "Looks like we got our ticket, boys! With a Tier 2 in our group, we can explore that dungeon!" After finishing his meal, Alix leaves The Iron Hearth Inn and continues his exploration of Misorn. The streets remain lively, filled with monsters of all shapes and sizes, each seeming to have found their own place in this growing city. Despite knowing that Thano had limited resources, Alix feels satisfied with what he sees. The city has a sense of life, a vibrancy that no human settlement he''s visited could replicate. Even with the iron-tier blueprints, the buildings surpass what the three human kingdoms could build. With a thought, Alix teleports to Delon, the city known as the hub of blacksmiths and artisans. As he appears in the heart of the city, the sound of hammers clanging on anvils and the crackling of forges fills the air. Monsters with soot-covered faces, some carefully etching intricate designs on weapons, and even shaping raw iron with ease, it all unfolds before him. A pair of cyclopses argue loudly over the best way to temper a massive greatsword. A kobold with delicate, precise movements inspects a set of jeweled daggers, ensuring the balance is just right. "Hey, I told ya, quenching it too fast will make it brittle!" a cyclops bellows, waving a hammer. "Bah, and I said it''ll hold just fine! We ain''t making decorations here!" the other retorts. Nearby, a old monster instructs a young ogre on shaping armor plates. "Steady, keep your strikes measured. Armor isn''t just metal¡ªit''s protection," the minotaur rumbles. Chapter 112: Celestia Magisterium Alix takes it all in, the organized chaos of the artisans working tirelessly. The city lives up to its reputation. As he walks, he overhears a conversation between a group of human merchants dressed in fine clothes. "How can these monsters craft weapons like this?" one merchant mutters, his eyes wide as he inspects a rack of spears. "This quality, some are better than the famous blacksmiths in the three kingdoms." Another merchant, a woman with a calculating gaze, crosses her arms. "I hate to admit it, the monsters are very talented. Who would have thought monsters could create such things?" Alix smirks faintly at their conversation, understanding the depth of the change his influence has wrought. He teleports again, this time to Crass City, the site of the kingdom''s largest marketplace right now. Unlike the modest market squares of the human cities, Crass is a vast expanse filled with towering stalls and pavilions. Deftly barter, they display intricate trinkets, and big monsters oversee trade routes with surprising efficiency. A human merchant shakes his head, looking at a towering stone structure, a trade hall for auctions. "Who built all this?" he mutters. "I''ve traveled through all three kingdoms, and I''ve never seen anything like it." A monster nearby grins toothily. "Our king did. The one that create miracles. Welcome to Crass City, human." Finally, Alix teleports to Varestand City, the last stop on his tour. Unlike the bustling activity of the other cities, Varestand has a quieter, more contemplative atmosphere. The streets are less crowded, and many of the monsters here carry tomes, staffs, and enchanted trinkets. At the heart of the city stands the Mage Academy called Celestia Magisterium, a towering structure that contrasts sharply with the simpler iron-tier buildings that surround it. The academy is a silver-rarity blueprint, the most costly. The funds poured into its construction nearly drained the 1,500,000 gold coins, but the result is a building that exudes an aura of arcane knowledge. Crystal orbs glow softly atop spires, intricate runes are etched into the walls, and enchanted banners ripple in non-existent winds. As Alix approaches, he notices a group of aspiring students. Kobolds, goblins, and even a few trolls, practicing basic spells in the open training yard. A pair of academy staff members, created by the blueprint, observe and guide them. Though their knowledge is adequate for teaching beginners, they lack the expertise to instruct higher-level spells. Alix steps inside the academy, where hallways are lined with polished stone and glowing glyphs. Students shuffle between classrooms, clutching spellbooks and muttering incantations under their breath. Despite the academy''s grandeur, there''s a sense of incompleteness, like a stage set waiting for its main performers. He spots Groth, now the headmaster, near a grand staircase. The old salamander monster stands with his hands clasped behind his back, his scales a muted, weathered green with streaks of gray. Despite his age, Groth''s eyes are sharp and observant, following the progress of each student with a mix of patience and discernment. "Groth," Alix calls out. Groth turns, his gaze landing on Alix before a smile pulls at the corners of his scaled mouth. "Ah, you are here, your majesty. Visiting to see how your precious academy fares?" "Just taking a look," Alix replies, his eyes scanning the bustling halls. "How are things here?" Groth chuckles, a raspy sound like dry leaves rustling. "Hah! It''s a fine building, no doubt. The students are eager, the staff reliable... but a fine blade is useless without a proper hand to wield it." Alix nods, understanding. "Still lacking teachers?" "Aye," Groth grumbles, his gaze falling to a group of young orcs struggling to conjure a basic fireball. "We''ve had many applicants, goblins who can barely light a candle, ogres whose idea of magic is smashing a rock with their fists. Tier 1s, most of them. Eager, but lacking." "Any promising ones?" Alix inquires. "Here and there," Groth admits, his voice thoughtful. "A gnoll with a knack for wind magic, a troll who shows surprising finesse with enchantments. But even they are barely Tier 2. We need more, monsters who have truly walked the path of magic, who can guide these students past the basics." Alix watches as a young gnoll finally conjures a small flicker of flame, earning applause from his peers. There is potential here, raw and unrefined. Alix crosses his arms, his gaze steady. "Just keep on teaching here, Groth. If we really can''t find any suitable teachers, I''ll handle it myself." In his mind, he''s already considering the possibility of resurrecting mages from the Mage Tower of his capital city. Even the weakest mage there is level 400, a formidable force compared to the monsters here. However, resurrecting even one of them would demand an enormous amount of gold coins. Still, if it''s necessary to ensure the academy''s success, it might be worth it. Groth tilts his head, a thoughtful glint in his aged eyes. "Very well, Your Majesty. I''ll continue as you wish. Truth be told... teaching these talented young ones is a far more pleasant task than constantly marching onto the battlefield. There''s joy in seeing a spark ignite in their eyes when they finally grasp a spell." Alix glances around at the students practicing in the training yard, their faces lit with focus and determination. There''s something admirable about Groth''s dedication, about the way he''s adjusted to this new role. "Then keep nurturing them, Groth," Alix says firmly. "And if we need more than that, if the time comes when your guidance isn''t enough. I''ll bring in someone who can fill the gaps." Groth bows his head, a respectful and genuine gesture. "I will do as you say, Your Majesty." As Alix turns to leave, Groth calls out, "And thank you, Your Majesty. For this academy. For giving us more than just strength, we now have wisdom to pursue." Alix pauses, offering a final nod before stepping away. The sound of incantations and the hum of magic fill the air behind him, a melody of growth and promise. Chapter 113: The War Continues In the grand palace of Raltheon Kingdom, tension hangs thick in the air. The meeting chamber, usually a place of diplomacy and strategy, now feels more like a battlefield. King Edric sits at the head of the long, ornately carved table, his fingers tapping impatiently against the polished wood. His expression is sour, no, furious. Even with the severity of the situation, the rulers of Ordeya and Valgros have only sent representatives. He had personally written letters to both kings, expecting their presence, but all he received were envoys. His gaze sharpens as he leans forward, his voice carrying the weight of his frustration. "So, did the two of them agree to help me?" The representative from Ordeya, a middle-aged man in a fine navy-blue coat, clears his throat before responding. "Yes, Your Highness. His Majesty has agreed to allow you to issue a Sovereign''s Call to Arms through the Adventurers'' Guild¡ªunder one condition." He pauses, watching King Edric''s expression. "For the next five years, trade between our kingdoms must be conducted at a 30% percent discount off market prices." King Edric''s fingers tighten into a fist against the table. "Thirty percent?" His voice is laced with disbelief. "That''s robbery. You expect me to cripple my own economy just to get help?" The Ordeya envoy remains composed. "It is a generous offer, considering the circumstances. The guild may not fall under the rule of any kingdom, but as you know, each kingdom can only issue a Sovereign''s Call to Arms to the adventurers guild within their own territory. Ordeya is making an exception." His eyes flick toward the Valgros representative, a man clad in dark green, his expression unreadable. "And what of your king? What does he demand?" The Valgros envoy folds his hands calmly. "His Majesty King Rewalt is willing to lend assistance... but only if Raltheon formally cedes the border city of Gildor to Valgros." A heavy silence settles over the room. Edric''s fingers tighten against the table''s edge. Gildor, a strategically vital city, was already contested territory between their kingdoms. Handing it over would be a devastating loss, but without aid, his kingdom might face an even greater disaster. Edric''s mind races, the weight of the decision pressing down on him like an iron shackle. If he refuses, his kingdom may not last another year. The enemy looks like it''s about to attack again, and despite his attempts to reach out to the King of the monsters, the responses he receives are always vague, as if they are deliberately stalling him. Finally, he exhales sharply and straightens in his chair. "Give me time to consider." His voice is firm, but there''s an undeniable edge of weariness. The Ordeya representative inclines his head slightly. "Of course, Your Highness. But I advise you not to delay for too long. Every passing day tilts the balance further against you." The Valgros envoy remains silent, merely offering a knowing look before standing. "We will await your response, King Edric. But understand, our king does not make offers twice." As the two envoys depart, Edric remains seated, his hands clenched into fists. His kingdom''s future hinges on choices he never wanted to make. If only that damned Monster King would give me a clear answer... ---- Back in the heart of Erevaris, Alix stands in a grand chamber, a dimly lit hall lined with towering obsidian pillars. The air hums with a quiet intensity as he gazes down at Sissari. Her three eyes shimmer with an eerie intelligence, her serpentine body coiling slightly as she awaits his command. Alix speaks, his voice calm yet resolute. "Go now and implement our next move." Sissari bows her elongated head, her voice as smooth as silk. "As you wish, Your Majesty." With fluid grace, she turns. Moments later, a sealed message is sent to the Raltheon Kingdom, bearing a simple yet devastating declaration: "The Erevaris Kingdom will only stop if the Raltheon Kingdom becomes a subject state." Back in Raltheon King Edric reads the message in his private chamber. His hands shake as he grips the parchment, his breathing heavy. His vision blurs with rage. A bitter, humorless laugh escapes his lips. They''re not demanding his submission in name alone¡ªthey want complete control. "They must be so confident in themselves." His fingers crumple the message as his blood boils hotter. His body trembles, not with fear, but with unyielding fury. His eyes burn with a bloodthirsty light. "Then, let''s fight to the end." His decision is made. He storms back to the meeting chamber, his movements stiff with anger. Without hesitation, he looks to the Ordeya and Valgros envoys and growls, "I accept your terms." The Ordeya envoy nods, his expression one of quiet satisfaction. The Valgros representative merely smirks. Edric does not care. Let them think they''ve won something. This war will not end with submission. It will end in blood. Back in Erevaris Alix sits in his war chamber, a massive map of Raltheon spread across the polished stone table before him. The glow of magical lanterns casts sharp shadows across the room. At his side stands General Varkas. Across from them, Sissari glides into the chamber, her three luminous eyes flickering with intrigue. She bows slightly before speaking. "Your Majesty, Raltheon has made its choice. They will fight to the end." Alix leans back in his chair, exhaling softly. "Expected." His fingers drum against the armrest. "And our forces?" Varkas steps forward, his deep voice filled with quiet confidence. "The army is now fifty thousand strong." "They are disciplined, well-equipped, and eager for battle. We are ready to move." Alix studies the map in silence, his gaze sharp as he traces the borders of Raltheon. He already anticipated this response. Humans are stubborn, and unwilling to bend. Varkas smirks, a glint of anticipation in his eyes. "We''ll strike swiftly, seize control before their reinforcements arrive." Alix nods. "Take what you need. Keep casualties low, but make it clear, Raltheon is crumbling. And if their king still refuses to kneel..." He pauses, his expression turning colder. "We will grind them into dust." Varkas places a fist over his chest in salute. "Understood, Your Majesty." With that, he turns and strides out of the chamber, already barking orders to his officers. Days later, the frontlines Smoke rises in thick plumes over the conquered cities. In just a few days, three key strongholds of Raltheon have fallen. General Varkas, leading with ruthless efficiency, commands the battlefield like a seasoned predator. The enemy forces, outnumbered and outmatched, fall like leaves before a storm. Yet, just as expected, the reinforcements from Ordeya and Valgros arrive. Their banners stretch across the horizon, a tide of warriors rallying to Edric''s cause. With their aid, Raltheon finally manages to halt the advance, forcing Erevaris to hold their positions. But no Tier 5 combatants have entered the battlefield yet. The real war is only beginning. Inside a fortified war tent near Raltheon''s front lines, two figures stand facing each other over a large map spread across an iron table. The air inside is tense, but not with hostility, rather, a sharp anticipation of the battle ahead. One of them, clad in heavy black armor, rests a massive greatsword against his shoulder. His short, messy blond hair is damp with sweat, and his green eyes gleam with the thrill of war. This is Pavel, the only Adamantite-ranked adventurer in the Ordeya Kingdom, a Tier 5 warrior known for his raw power and unbreakable resilience. Across from him, a tall, imposing man clad in a dark green military coat with silver embroidery stands with his arms crossed. His presence alone commands respect¡ªMarshal Zinov, the strongest of Valgros'' three marshals. His piercing gray eyes are calculating, his every movement precise and efficient. Unlike Pavel''s wild energy, Zinov carries himself with an air of absolute control. Pavel lets out a low whistle as he looks Zinov up and down. "The Valgros Kingdom is really going all out this time. They even sent you here." Zinov''s expression remains unreadable. "King Rewalt does not take unnecessary risks. Erevaris is no ordinary foe." He taps a spot on the map¡ªthe latest city Erevaris has taken. "If we do not act carefully, this war will be over before Raltheon realizes it." Garron grins, cracking his neck. "Careful, huh? I prefer direct. Get in, cut down their commanders, break their morale. That usually does the trick." He pats the hilt of his greatsword, a weapon nearly as long as he is tall. "Besides, that Tier 5 monster on their side has shown up yet. Maybe he''s scared." Zinov''s sharp gray eyes narrow as he fixes Pavel with a cold stare. "We need to plan and work together if we''re going to fight that monster." His voice is steady, but there''s an unmistakable edge to it. "Don''t underestimate the enemy. One of our kingdom''s marshals was killed by that thing." Pavel''s grin fades slightly, his fingers tightening around the grip of his greatsword. "So the rumors were true, then?" He exhales sharply, shaking his head. "Damn. Which one?" "Marshal Draven." Zinov''s tone is flat, but the weight of the words is heavy. "He was a seasoned warrior, a Tier 5 who had fought in more battles than most men could count. And yet, he died." A moment of silence lingers between them. Pavel''s usual cocky energy dims, replaced by something more serious. "How did it happen?" Zinov glances at the map, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of the table. "We still don''t have a clear account. The scouts only said one thing: it wasn''t a fight. It was a massacre. The enemy didn''t even take Draven seriously." His eyes flicker with something rare¡ªcaution. "And that''s just one enemy. We don''t even know if Erevaris has other Tier 5 monsters waiting in the shadows." Chapter 114 114: Nyssara, Thurn, and Vertha, Become Tier 4 On the outskirts of the contested city, a massive force stands ready. Fifty thousand monstrous soldiers, their forms casting eerie shadows under the dim sky, await the order to strike. They are led by four figures, Sorin, Nyssara, Thurn, and Veltha, each commanding specialized units tailored to their strengths. Nyssara, now a Tier 4 commander, stands at the front of her division. Clad in dark, heavy armor, her presence is as unshakable as the creatures behind her, monsters bred for defense, their hulking forms resembling living fortresses. Their thick hides gleam under the faint light, shields and natural armor braced for the impending clash. Beside her, Veltha also got promoted to a commander, also a tier 4, the wind rustling through her long silver hair. Her command consists of fast-moving monsters, agile and relentless, their sleek bodies built for rapid strikes and precise destruction. The air around them is filled with anticipation, the beasts shifting restlessly as if eager to be unleashed. Thurn the same as the two, got promoted and breakthrough to tier 4, his eyes glinting with cold amusement, stands among his forces, monsters steeped in poison, their very existence a walking plague. Venom drips from fangs and claws, and the scent of toxicity lingers in the air. The battlefield ahead is not just a place of war, it will be a breeding ground for death. Sorin, surveys the city ahead with an expression of quiet intensity. Unlike the others, her authority is not defined by a specific combat style but by her unwavering command over the entire force. The city walls loom in the distance, filled with defenders, fifty thousand strong, a mix of Raltheon''s battered army and the newly arrived reinforcements from Ordeya and Valgros. She speaks, her voice calm but firm. "Although most of them are adventurers, we shouldn''t underestimate them. After all, they''re from Ordeya." Nyssara nods, arms crossed over her plated chest. "Ordeya adventurers are tough, that''s what the rumors said. But they''re not invincible. We just have to break them properly." Veltha tilts her head toward Sorin. "What''s the plan?" Sorin looks over the battlefield, taking in the terrain, the defenses, and the formation of the enemy. "We split the attack into three waves. Nyssara, your forces will take the lead. Your job isn''t to break through immediately, it''s to absorb their attacks, hold the line, and wear them down." Nyssara smirks. "Leave it to me." Sorin continues, eyes flickering toward Veltha. "Once they''re engaged, you and your monsters strike next. Speed is your greatest advantage. Don''t give them time to reorganize. Hit them hard and fast." Veltha''s eyes gleam. "Sounds fun." Finally, Sorin shifts her gaze to Thurn. "You will follow last. By then, their formation should be weakened. That''s when you strike. Flood their ranks with poison. Make sure their healers are overwhelmed." Thurn nods, a slow, knowing smile creeping across his face. "They''ll be too busy gasping for air to put up much of a fight." Sorin exhales, her gaze lingering on the enemy city. "This battle won''t be easy. But if we execute this right, we''ll be able to conquer this city." The air is thick with tension. Fifty thousand monstrous warriors stand ready, their breaths heavy, their claws, fangs, and weapons poised for war. Across the battlefield, the city''s defenders tighten their grips on their weapons, their banners fluttering violently in the wind. The clash is inevitable. Sorin raises her arm, and a deafening silence falls over the monster army. Then, with a single motion, she brings it down. A monstrous roar erupts as Nyssara''s vanguard surges forward. The ground trembles as towering, heavily armored monsters charge across the battlefield. Their sheer size and unyielding defenses make them living battering rams. Shields lock together, forming an unstoppable wall of steel and flesh. From the city walls, a storm of arrows and spells rains down. Fiery projectiles streak through the air, crashing into the advancing horde. Explosions tear through the earth, sending dust and shattered stone flying. Some monsters fall, their bodies consumed by fire or pierced by enchanted bolts, but the line does not break. Nyssara, leading from the front, lifts her massive shield, deflecting a barrage of incoming projectiles. A blast of fire slams into her, but she emerges unscathed, her armor glowing red-hot before cooling almost instantly. "Hold the line!" she roars. "Advance!" A hail of arrows pelts her shield, but she pushes forward, her troops following in perfect formation. The city gates loom closer. Then, with a thunderous crash, the first impact occurs. Raltheon''s frontline meets Nyssara''s forces head-on. The clash of metal against flesh is deafening. Warriors are sent flying as the monsters smash into them like a tidal wave. Shields splinter, weapons break, and the defenders struggle to hold their ground. From the rear, a group of adventurers steps forward. One of them, a hulking man wielding a massive warhammer, slams it into the ground. A shockwave ripples outward, toppling several monsters. Another adventurer on top of the walls, a mage clad in blue robes, raises a hand, summoning jagged ice spears that pierce through the first row of charging creatures. Nyssara watches as several of her monsters collapse, frozen solid or crushed beneath the hammer''s force. She exhales slowly, rolling her shoulders before striding forward, her heavy armor gleaming in the chaos of battle. Then, her gaze locks onto the warhammer-wielding adventurer. A grin tugs at the corner of her lips. "Oh, a strong one." The man, an iron-clad warrior meets her gaze. His grip tightens on the warhammer, its runes pulsing with a deep, molten glow. "You must be one of their commanders," he says, his voice steady despite the carnage around them. Nyssara chuckles. "Yeah, I''m the commander." She plants her feet firmly into the ground, her six crimson eyes locking onto him. Her armor, a deep obsidian-black with veins of shimmering silver, gleams under the fiery glow of battle. Her fingers flex over the hilt of her weapon¡ªa massive greatshield, its surface jagged like the carapace of a monstrous beast. The adventurer exhales sharply, shifting his stance. "Name''s Gar." He hefts his warhammer onto his shoulder, his muscles tensing. "And if you''re leading this charge, that means I get to crush you first." Chapter 115 115: Assassin Vs. Mage Nyssara tilts her head, an amused gleam in her eyes. "Talk big while you can, human. Let''s see if you can back it up." Then, she moves. The ground cracks beneath her as she lunges forward, her greatshield raised like a battering ram. Gar barely has time to brace before she slams into him. The impact is like a cataclysmic quake. Dust and debris explode outward as his feet dig into the dirt, his body sliding back several meters despite his immense strength. The force nearly buckles his arms, but he grits his teeth and retaliates. With a roar, he swings his warhammer in a wide arc. The runes on its surface flare, sending out a burst of concussive force. Nyssara reacts instantly. Her lower limbs¡ªthick, armored arachnid legs¡ªdig into the ground, anchoring her as she raises her shield to absorb the blow. The hammer crashes against it with a deafening boom, sending shockwaves rippling through the battlefield. She slides back, but she doesn''t falter. She grins. "Not bad." Gar narrows his eyes. "You too, monster." Before he can recover, she retaliates. With terrifying speed, she swings her shield like a battering weapon. He ducks just in time, but the sheer force of the air pressure alone sends nearby soldiers flying. She doesn''t stop there¡ªher armored legs burst into motion, weaving an unpredictable pattern as she circles him, striking with a combination of her shield and razor-sharp clawed gauntlets. Gar blocks, parries, and evades, his warhammer moving like a whirlwind, but Nyssara is relentless. Their fight becomes a furious exchange of power, each blow shaking the battlefield. Meanwhile, the battle rages around them. Veltha''s fast-moving monsters dart through the chaos, striking at weak points, cutting down mages and archers before vanishing into the fray. Thurn''s forces wait like vipers, watching for the perfect moment to release their venomous terror upon the battlefield. The adventurers fight with desperate ferocity. Blades clash, spells explode, and the air is filled with the roars of monsters and the screams of dying soldiers. Back in the duel, Gar sees an opening. He channels raw power into his warhammer and swings upward, aiming for Nyssara''s exposed side. For a moment, it seems like he''s going to land a decisive blow. But then¡ª His weapon stops. Nyssara''s armored hand grips the shaft of his warhammer, stopping it inches from her body. Her grip tightens, and with a single heave, she lifts Garron clean off the ground. His eyes widen. "What¡ª?!" Before he can react, she twists and slams him into the earth with monstrous strength. The ground shatters beneath him, a crater forming from the sheer force of impact. Dust billows. The battlefield momentarily pauses as soldiers and monsters alike glance toward the site of destruction. Nyssara stands over him, her expression calm. She watches as Garron coughs, struggling to push himself up, his warhammer lying a few feet away. She exhales. "That was a good fight." While three dominates the battlefield below, Sorin is already where she thrives¡ªabove the chaos, in the shadows. Sorin moves with a stealth skill on across the city walls, her twin daggers slick with fresh blood. The sun casts long shadows over the stone parapets, but she remains unseen, a ghost amid the chaos. The defenders on the walls had been a serious problem¡ªarchers and mages raining death down on the battlefield, thinning their forces. That was before she got here. Now? A lifeless body slumps against the battlements. Another collapses before he can even turn. One after another, archers and spellcasters fall, their deaths quick and quiet. Some never even realize their throats have been slit before darkness takes them. Sorin exhales, standing over a pile of corpses. The city below still fights fiercely, but here, the resistance is fading. Almost done. Her crimson eyes flick toward her real target¡ªthe lever that controls the city gate. If she can reach it, the entire battle shifts. Then¡ª A sharp crack splits the air. Magic flares. Sorin leaps back just in time as a pillar of ice erupts where she stood, shards of frost tearing through the stone. A powerful chill fills the air, and she spins toward the source. A lone figure stands between her and the gate controls. A Tier 4 mage. He''s older, dressed in ornate blue robes, his beard streaked with white. A heavy staff rests in his grip, glowing with an eerie frost-blue light. His eyes lock onto Sorin, sharp with awareness. "So you''re the rat that''s been creeping around my walls." His voice is steady, but there''s a dangerous weight to it. Sorin tilts her head, sizing him up. "Yeah I am, and I almost kill every one here without you noticing." She said in a mocking voice. The mage smirks, tapping his staff against the stone. A thin layer of frost spreads outward, cracking the surface of the wall beneath them. "You''re fast. I''ll give you that," he says. "But stealth won''t save you now." Sorin flips a dagger between her fingers, her stance relaxed. "You sure?" She moves. A flicker of motion¡ªone second she''s in front of him, the next she''s at his side, daggers flashing toward his ribs. But the mage is no amateur. A burst of icy wind explodes from his staff. Sorin is forced to retreat as the cold cuts through the air, sharp as blades. She flips backward, landing lightly, but the frost clings to her cloak, spreading unnaturally fast. She rips it off just as it stiffens, turning brittle and shattering like glass. The mage chuckles. "Clever. But you won''t evade forever." Sorin doesn''t respond. She''s already moving. She activates [Shadow Step], a Tier 2 skill. Her body flickers, phasing through the thin layer of ice beneath her, reappearing behind him in an instant. Her dagger plunges toward his spine. [Ice Barrier]. A dome of thick frost erupts around the mage, blocking the strike. The impact sends cracks through the ice, but it holds. Sorin tsk''s, retreating as the barrier shatters outward in jagged shards, forcing her to dodge. "You rely too much on tricks," the mage says, raising his staff. "Try facing magic head-on." Chapter 116: The Black Knight, Kain A pulse of mana surges from his body. He slams the staff against the ground, casting [Frozen Domain], a Tier 3 skill. The temperature drops instantly. The air crystallizes, and the stone beneath their feet turns slick with ice. Sorin moves to shift her weight, but her footing betrays her¡ªher boots skid against the frozen surface. The mage smiles. "Slowed already?" Sorin exhales. She expected this. A lesser assassin might struggle here, but she isn''t just any assassin. She activates [Phantom Step], a Tier 3 buff skill. Her entire body becomes weightless, her movements unhindered by terrain. She dashes forward as if skating across the ice, closing the gap in a heartbeat. Her daggers gleam. [Dagger Art: Phantom Strikes]¡ªa Tier 3 skill. A flurry of attacks follows, too fast for the eye to track. She slashes at every vital point¡ªthroat, wrists, heart, lungs. But¡ª [Frost Warden''s Aegis]. A Tier 3 defensive spell. An intricate layer of ice armor coats the mage''s robes, absorbing the damage. The daggers cut into him, but only shallow wounds appear. Then, he counters. A surge of magic erupts from his staff. [Glacial Chains]. Ice shoots from the ground, forming thick chains that snap toward Sorin. She twists, evading two, but a third catches her ankle, freezing on contact. The mage grins. "Caught you." Sorin smirks. "Not quite." She vanishes. A shadow flickers across the battlefield. She reappears ten meters away, completely free. [Veil of Night]. A Tier 4 skill. The mage''s smirk fades. "Tier 4..." She also activates [Death Requiem], her Tier 4 dagger skill. A shadowy mist erupts from her blades, swirling like a living entity. It coils around the mage, wrapping him in a suffocating embrace. The mist seeps into his skin, spreading a deathly chill through his veins. His face twists in pain as his mana flickers erratically, his body rejecting his own magic. "W-what is this...?!" he gasps, stumbling back. Sorin steps forward, her eyes glowing faintly under the mist''s eerie presence. "A requiem. Your last one." She flicks her wrist, sending the mist tightening around him. He screams as his body convulses, his movements sluggish, his magic faltering. But she''s not done. With fluid precision, she activates her second Tier 4 skill. [Silent End] Her presence vanishes. No sound. No killing intent. The mage''s panicked eyes dart around. He can''t sense her¡ªcan''t even tell where the next attack will come from. Then¡ª A dagger pierces through his ribs from behind. His body jerks, blood splattering against the frost-covered stone. He gasps, trying to turn, but another dagger buries itself in his throat. Sorin leans in, whispering in his ear. "You should''ve been sure." With a final twist of the blade, she ends him. The mage collapses. Sorin watches his body hit the ice, then exhales. The gate lever is unguarded now. But just as she steps forward, she senses something. A presence. Strong. She turns her head¡ªand standing at the other end of the wall who just arrived is a towering figure clad in heavy obsidian armor, a massive sword resting on his shoulder. Unlike the mage, this one radiates pure, unshaken confidence. A level 486 Tier 4 knight. His name is Kain Vortain, a legend among human soldiers. Sorin can tell immediately¡ªthis isn''t an opponent she can defeat alone. The gap between them is overwhelming. Even with her Tier 4 skills, even with all her tricks, she knows. She will die if she fights him alone. But she doesn''t let her expression betray that realization. Instead, she tilts her head, a smirk playing on her lips. "You''re late. I''ve already killed everyone here." Kain steps forward, the stone beneath his feet cracking under his weight. His deep, gravelly voice carries easily across the wall. "And now you die for it." His sword hums with power, dark energy rippling along its length. This isn''t just a weapon¡ªit''s enchanted, reinforced by countless battles. Sorin doesn''t hesitate. With a subtle hand movement, she activates her communication sigil, sending a silent signal to Nyssara, Thurn, and Veltha. They''ll understand. They need to get here. Now. Kain moves. In an instant, he vanishes from sight¡ªhis sheer speed unnatural for someone in such heavy armor. Shit¡ª Sorin barely reacts in time, twisting away as his blade cleaves through the air where she stood. The force of the swing alone sends a powerful shockwave across the wall, shattering stone and sending debris flying. She flips back, landing lightly, but Kain doesn''t give her space. He''s already in front of her, his gauntlet-covered fist swinging toward her head. Sorin ducks. Just barely. The air pressure from the punch alone whips past her, a terrifying reminder of just how deadly a direct hit would be. She retaliates. [Dagger Art: Phantom Strikes]. Her daggers blur as she slashes at his exposed joints¡ªelbows, neck, underarms. Precise, ruthless, lethal. But¡ª CLANG. Her daggers barely scratch his armor. Kain doesn''t even flinch. His sword whips around, faster than she can react. BOOM. Sorin throws herself backward, but the sheer force blasts her off her feet. She barely twists midair, landing in a crouch¡ªbut her daggers tremble in her grip. Her arms feel numb. Kain watches her, expression unreadable. Then he exhales, rolling his neck. "Hmph. Fast. But not enough." Sorin''s mind races. She''s outmatched. She needs to stall¡ªneeds to buy time. She lets out a slow breath, forcing a cocky grin. "You talk a lot for someone who''s failed to kill me already." Then he moves again. Too fast. His blade comes down like a judgment from the heavens¡ªa single, devastating strike that could end her right now. But¡ª Before the blade lands¡ª A deafening CRASH shakes the wall. A massive, armored limb slams into Kain''s sword, deflecting it mid-strike. The sheer force splits the battlements, sending chunks of stone crashing to the streets below. Kain slides back, his boots digging into the cracked stone. A low, chittering laugh follows. Nyssara has arrived. She stands beside Sorin, her massive arachnid form towering over the battlefield. Her greatshield, the one that just blocked Kain''s attack, glows with layered enchantments. She grins, her fangs glinting. "You looked like you needed help, Sorin." Sorin exhales. "Took you long enough." Thurn and Veltha appear moments later. Thurn steps onto the wall with slow, deliberate confidence, his chitin-covered arms flexing as his eight arachnid legs settle against the cracked stone. His entire body exudes poison, the air around him growing thick with a faint violet mist. Veltha slithers beside him, her scaled tail coiling around a fallen pillar as her forked tongue flicks out. The markings along her body glow with a dull golden hue¡ªher bloodline''s power awakening. Her clawed fingers twitch, dark magic swirling around them, pulsing with venom. She flicks her daggers. "Alright then. Let''s kill this bastard." Kain stands across from them, silent. Then, he smirks. "Come, then. Show me what you''re worth." The battle begins Kain moves first. A single step¡ª BOOM. The sheer force shatters the stone beneath him as he lunges straight for Sorin. But this time, she''s not alone. A figure intercepts him¡ªNyssara. Her foldable sword-like limbs extend, their razor-sharp edges gleaming as she slashes mid-air, meeting Kain''s blade head-on. The impact sends a shockwave through the wall, cracks spiderwebbing across the battlefield. Kain grunts, his stance shifting to absorb the blow. Before Kain can counter, Thurn moves. With an inhuman burst of speed, he lunges from the side, his chitin-covered arms shifting unnaturally. His fingers extend into needle-like claws, glistening with a thick, viscous venom. [Tier 4 Bloodline Skill: Venomous Erosion] A single scratch¡ªjust one¡ªwould be enough to melt through steel and flesh alike. The air around his claws hisses as the poison reacts with the stone beneath them, corroding it instantly. Kain doesn''t underestimate him. His obsidian blade shifts, redirecting Nyssara''s attack with a powerful twist before swinging backward to intercept Thurn''s claws. CLANG. Sparks erupt as metal meets chitin. Thurn grits his fangs, feeling the force reverberate through his limbs. But he doesn''t retreat. Instead¡ª [Tier 4 Skill: Abyssal Toxin] A pulse of dark energy spreads from Thurn''s body, the thick purple mist around him turning nearly black. It sinks into the cracks of the stone, seeping into the air. Kain exhales sharply, his armor''s enchantments activating, resisting the creeping effect. But the momentary distraction is all Veltha needs. [Tier 4 A Bloodline Skill: Serpent''s Fangs] Her fingertips elongate, forming dagger-like claws that glisten with concentrated venom. They bypass armor, sinking into the gaps between plates, delivering a poison that attacks both body and mana. Kain moves. With precise control, he shifts his weight, raising his gauntlet to block her strike. The poison eats into the metal, sizzling upon contact. A devastating punch slams into Veltha''s torso, sending her flying backward. She crashes against the battlements, coughing, but her body twists midair, regaining balance. The glow in her scales intensifies. She grins, wiping blood from her lip. Kain rolls his shoulders, his smirk fading slightly as he takes a steady breath. His armor is corroded in spots, faint traces of poison eating away at the enchanted metal. Inside, he''s shocked. "Two of them... have already used two Tier 4 skills?" He clenches his grip on his sword, suppressing the unease creeping into his mind. He, a knight of the strongest kingdom, only possesses one Tier 4 skill. And yet, these monsters¡ªthese creatures¡ªare wielding power that surpasses expectations. He exhales. No holding back. A surge of mana erupts from his body as he activates every tier 3 buff skill in his arsenal. [Champion''s Valor] [Knight''s Resolve] [Blood of the Tyrant] His muscles tighten, his speed sharpens, and his sword pulses with newfound strength. The air around him distorts, the sheer pressure of his presence now overwhelming. Nyssara narrows her eyes. "Here we go." Kain moves. This time, he''s faster. Much faster. With a single burst, he closes the distance between him and Thurn in the blink of an eye. Thurn barely raises his arms before¡ª BOOM! Kain''s sword slams into him with monstrous force, sending him flying through the battlements. Stone shatters, dust explodes into the air, and a massive crater forms where Thurn lands. "Thurn!" Veltha hisses. Chapter 117: Kains Death She and Nyssara react instantly. Nyssara''s limbs carve through the air like lightning, while Veltha''s tail whips toward Kain with enough force to split a huge tree in half. Kain doesn''t dodge. He counters. His blade twists, meeting Nyssara''s strike head-on. The moment their weapons collide, he rotates his wrist, parrying the attack at an angle that forces Nyssara off balance. Veltha''s tail is next. Kain pivots on his heel, ducking low as the massive tail swings past his head. Before Veltha can recover, he drives his gauntlet-covered fist into her abdomen. CRACK. Veltha chokes as she''s sent hurtling backward. But before Kain can capitalize¡ª A shadow flickers. Sorin. Her dagger is already at his neck. SHIIING. Kain tilts his head at the last second, avoiding a fatal strike¡ªbut the tip of the dagger grazes his cheek, drawing blood. Sorin vanishes again. "Tch." Kain wipes the blood away, his expression still composed. Then¡ªhe senses it. A presence above him. He looks up. Nyssara is mid-air, her two massive sword-limbs glowing with a dark crimson light. [Tier 4 Skill: Blade Queen''s Wrath] With a fierce battle cry, she brings both weapons down, the force behind them enough to carve through a fortress. Kain''s instincts scream. He raises his blade. CLANG! The impact is monstrous. The entire wall quakes as Kain is forced to his knees for the first time. His sword, powerful as it is, trembles against the raw force of Nyssara''s attack. But Nyssara isn''t done. From the ground, Thurn rises, his body pulsing with violet energy. His carapace is cracked, his face twisted in fury. A dark aura surges around him. [Tier 4 Skill: Abyssal Toxin ¨C Second Release] The poison in the air thickens, solidifying into black tendrils that wrap around Kain''s limbs, attempting to immobilize him. At the same time¡ª Veltha moves in, her claws glowing with venom, ready to strike. Sorin reappears behind him, both daggers aimed at the gaps in his armor. Four enemies. Three different angles. All striking at once. For the first time since the battle began¡ª Kain is overwhelmed. But he does not falter. Instead, his lips curl into a smirk. "Enough." Mana surges around him, the air vibrating with an ominous pressure. The sheer force of it sends ripples through the battlefield, forcing Nyssara, Thurn, Veltha, and Sorin to instinctively brace themselves. Then¡ª [Tier 4 Skill: Tyrant''s Dominion] BOOM. A shockwave erupts from Kain''s body, blasting outward like an unstoppable force. The black tendrils of Thurn''s [Abyssal Toxin] disintegrate instantly, as if burned away by sheer will. The battlements beneath his feet crack and explode outward, sending debris flying in all directions. Nyssara''s eyes widen. "Move!" Too late. The wave of force slams into all four of them. Nyssara is thrown backward, her massive frame crashing through a section of the wall. The impact sends stone and ice cascading down into the battlefield below. Thurn''s body twists violently midair before he''s launched straight into a ruined watchtower. The structure crumbles on impact, swallowing him in a cloud of dust and debris. Veltha tries to coil her tail around a broken pillar to stabilize herself, but the force is too strong. She''s hurled like a whip, her body skidding across the cracked stone before slamming into an iron gate. A gasp escapes her lips as she coughs blood, her golden scales now marred with cracks. Sorin vanishes at the last moment, trying to escape the blast with her speed¡ª But Kain is already there. He anticipates her movement, shifting his stance and striking with terrifying precision. His sword flashes through the air, catching Sorin mid-step. A thin line of blood splashes against the cold stone. Sorin gasps as a deep gash opens across her side. She stumbles, her knees nearly giving out from the sudden pain. She tries to fade back into the shadows, but her body refuses to respond. With her blood. "Monster, this is the end." Sorin grits her teeth, forcing herself to stand. Despite the burning pain, she smirks. "You sure about that?" Kain narrows his eyes, about to strike again¡ª But a screeching sound fills the air. Nyssara emerges from the rubble, her crimson eyes burning with fury. Her sword-limbs unfold with a sharp metallic shiiing, the edges glowing with renewed energy. "That hurt," she growls. Veltha, despite her injuries, pushes herself up. Her tail coils, steadying her stance. "Tch. You really are a monster, huh?" From the ruins of the watchtower, the rubble shifts. Then¡ª Thurn rises, his body wreathed in an even darker mist. His carapace, cracked from the impact, leaks a sickly violet venom. His mandibles click together as his voice rumbles. "He bleeds," Thurn says, his glowing eyes locking onto Kain''s still-bleeding cheek. "That means he can die." Sorin wipes the blood from her mouth and chuckles. "Agreed."The four of them exchange glances. Injured, but alive. Outmatched, but not beaten. The four of them exchange glances. Injured, but alive. Outmatched, but not beaten. Kain exhales, rolling his shoulders. "Still standing? Good." He plants his sword into the ground for a moment, his mana still surging around him like an untamed storm. "Then let''s finish this." Kain''s eyes narrow as he surveys his opponents. Despite their injuries, the four adversaries stand resolute, their determination unwavering. Each combatant poised for the next move. This time, their attacks are seamless. Nyssara, Thurn, Veltha, and Sorin move in perfect sync, like predators circling wounded prey. There is no hesitation. No wasted movement. Each attack flows into the next, creating a relentless onslaught that even Kain struggles to counter. Kain blocks a downward slash from Nyssara''s sword-limbs, but before he can counter, Veltha strikes from his blind spot. Her venom-coated claws rake against his armor, leaving behind sizzling marks. He pivots, raising his sword to slash at her¡ª But Thurn is already there. His chitin-covered arm slams into Kain''s gauntlet, redirecting the strike just enough to throw off its momentum. Kain grits his teeth, twisting his body, but Sorin appears behind him, her daggers flashing toward his exposed neck. Chapter 118: Nobles Getting Executed CLANG! Kain barely raises his shoulder plate in time, deflecting the lethal blow, but the dagger still cuts into his flesh, drawing more blood. His breathing grows heavier. They''re getting faster. They''re adapting. And worse¡ªhis body feels... heavy. The poison. Thurn''s and Veltha''s venom, subtle at first, is beginning to take its toll. His muscles burn with each movement. His sword, once an extension of his will, now feels just a fraction slower. His breathing turns ragged as sweat drips down his face. Damn it. He knows. If this fight drags on, he will die. "I won''t die here!!!" With a roar, Kain channels the last of his strength and activates every tier 2 buff skill he has left. [Indomitable Knight] ¨C Increases physical endurance beyond mortal limits. [Blade Mastery: Limit Break] ¨C Enhances reflexes, speed, and precision for a short duration. [Warrior''s Wrath] ¨C Converts pain into strength. A wave of raw power explodes from his body. The poison still lingers, but his will overrides it¡ªfor now. For a moment. Then, they use their final Tier 4 skills. Nyssara''s [Execution] ¨C Her sword-limbs extend unnaturally, striking from angles impossible to predict. Thurn''s [Venomous Abyss] ¨C His body releases a concentrated miasma that seeps into wounds, accelerating the poison''s effects tenfold. Veltha''s [Serpent''s Last Embrace] ¨C She coils around Kain, her tail locking his movements while venom courses through her fangs, ready to deliver a finishing bite. Kain fights like a demon, breaking free from Veltha''s coils, deflecting Nyssara''s strikes, and even punching through Thurn''s poisonous mist¡ª But his movements slow. His vision blurs. His breathing turns shallow. Then¡ª A dagger pierces his heart. Sorin stands behind him, her eyes locked onto his fading strength. The blade is deep, too deep. For the first time, Kain''s sword slips from his grasp. The great knight stumbles forward, his armor stained with blood, his strength finally leaving him. Kain''s vision dims, the world around him fading into a blur. He collapses to his knees, the weight of his injuries and the poison coursing through his veins too much to bear. Sorin withdraws her dagger, her breath heavy but her eyes triumphant. "It''s over," she declares, wiping Kain''s blood from her blade. Nyssara approaches, her massive form casting a shadow over the fallen knight. "He fought valiantly," she admits, her tone a mix of respect and relief. "But even the strongest have their limits." Veltha, still clutching her wounded side, nods. "If he had possessed even one more Tier 4 skill, we might not have survived this battle," she muses, acknowledging the narrow margin of their victory. Thurn, his carapace cracked and leaking venom, steps forward. "We need to open the gate and seize control of this city." The four warriors, battered but resolute, share a glance. Their ordeal has been grueling, but their objective remains clear. Sorin sheathes her daggers, her eyes scanning the surroundings. "Let''s move," she urges. Together, they turn towards the massive iron gate that stands between them and their conquest. Sorin grips the cold iron lever, her breath steadying as she pulls it down. The ancient mechanisms groan in protest, but the massive gate begins to creak open. "Finally," Nyssara mutters, wiping blood from her brow. "The city is ours." As the gate yawns open, their forces surge forward, a tide of warriors flooding the streets. The defenders, caught off guard, scramble to form ranks but are swiftly overwhelmed. "Press on!" Sorin shouts, her voice cutting through the chaos. "Show no mercy!" Nyssara''s sword-limbs flash as she leads the charge, cutting down any who stand in their way. Veltha''s tail lashes out, crushing shields and bones alike. ----- Zinov reads the report in his message, his brow furrowing deeply. The news of their defeat with their first clash with the monsters is unexpected, especially considering that the four commanders of the monsters have just reached Tier 4, and Kain is known for his exceptional strength even among other Tier 4 combatants. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Zinov immediately issues orders to his subordinates. "Summon all division leaders to the command tent at once," he commands, his voice steady but urgent. "Yes, Marshal," a young officer responds, hurrying out to relay the order. ----- In the heart of the Erevaris Kingdom, within the dimly lit confines of his training chamber, Alix stands amidst an array of ancient weapons and mystical artifacts. His muscles ripple under the strain as he executes a series of precise maneuvers, sweat glistening on his brow. A soft chime interrupts his focus¡ªa notification from the system. Pausing, Alix wipes his brow and summons the system interface. The message displays: [Treasury has received 500,000 gold coins.] A satisfied smile tugs at the corner of his lips. The integration of the system inventory with the kingdom''s treasury, overseen by Minister of Finance Lirik, has proven advantageous. ----- In the grand hall of the royal palace, King Edric paces furiously, his footsteps echoing off the stone walls. The recent reports of the five monster commanders dividing their forces to attack multiple towns, drawing ever closer to the capital, have frayed his nerves. "How could this happen, does the two kingdom''s help too useless?" Edric''s voice booms, his face flushed with anger. Sir Alden, the king''s trusted advisor, stands nearby, his expression a mix of concern and caution. "Your Majesty, our forces are stretched thin. The enemy''s strategy is cunning; dividing their troops has made it challenging to mount an effective defense." Edric slams his fist onto the armrest of his throne. "And what of the nobles? Those who sided with Duke Fynn? Their actions led to us being unable to reclaim Misorn. Had they not acted, we might not be in this dire position!" Alden hesitates before responding, "Sire, while some nobles were indeed complacent, not all were complicit. We must exercise caution in our judgments." But Edric''s patience has worn thin. "Enough! I will not tolerate betrayal, whether by action or inaction. Those who failed the kingdom will face justice." Within days, several nobles are arrested and executed on Edric''s orders, their alleged crimes tied to their association with Duke Fynn. Chapter 119 119: The Waiting Trap (part 1) The swift and severe punishments send shockwaves through the aristocracy. In a dimly lit chamber, a group of nobles gathers, their faces etched with worry. "This is madness," A lord mutters, his voice trembling. "The king executes our peers without proper evidence. Who among us is safe?" A lady noble nods in agreement. "We must act. If we remain silent, we risk our lives and the very fabric of our nobility." Another lord, older and with a stern demeanor, raises a hand. "We cannot openly oppose the king, but we must make our grievances known. A delegation to plead for reason, perhaps?" The nobles murmur in agreement, understanding the delicate balance they must maintain. Back in the palace, Alden approaches Edric cautiously. "Your Majesty, unrest grows among the nobility. They feel threatened by the recent executions." Edric''s eyes narrow. "Let them feel threatened. Perhaps then they''ll remember their duty to the crown." Alden bows his head, concern evident. "I fear pushing them too hard may lead to rebellion, sire. We need unity now more than ever." Edric sighs, the weight of leadership bearing down on him. "What would you have me do? Sit idly by while traitors undermine our kingdom?" "No, Your Majesty," Alden replies gently. "But discernment is key. Justice must be tempered with wisdom." Edric falls silent, contemplating his advisor''s words, as the kingdom teeters on the brink of internal strife amidst external threats. ------ In the command tent, Marshal Zinov sits at the head of a large wooden table, his fingers massaging his temples as he reviews the latest reports. Across from him, Pavel leans forward, his eyes scanning the same documents.? Zinov exhales sharply, placing the papers down. "These Raltheon soldiers are barely more than farmers with spears," he mutters. "If I had my troops, it would be a different story." Pavel nods, his brow furrowed. "Agreed. Their lack of discipline is evident. But dwelling on what we lack won''t change our situation." Pavel leans back slightly, choosing his words carefully. "Marshal how about this. Instead of passively waiting, we should take the initiative. Let''s attack them separately. By doing so, we can exploit their lack of coordination and possibly determine if they have more Tier 5 combatants among them."? Zinov''s eyes narrow as he considers the suggestion. "You''re suggesting we engage in detail, defeating isolated enemy units before they can consolidate their strength?" Pavel nods. "Exactly. By targeting their fragmented units, we can reduce their numbers and gather intelligence on their capabilities." Zinov taps his fingers on the table, deep in thought. "It''s a risky move. Our own forces are not at their peak." Pavel leans forward, his voice steady. "True, but waiting will only allow them to strengthen. Taking the offensive might disrupt their plans and give us the upper hand." After a long pause, Zinov exhales and nods. "Very well. Prepare the orders. We''ll strike their isolated units at dawn." Pavel''s lips curve into a slight smile. "Good. I''ll lead the adventurers; you lead the soldiers. I''ll target Crass City. I''ve heard it''s become a bustling marketplace. The adventurers will be more than happy to join me." Zinov raises an eyebrow. "Crass City? It''s a strategic location. If we can secure it, we''ll disrupt their supply lines." Pavel nods. "Exactly. As the strongest adventurer in Ordeya Kingdom, I have enough reputation to lead the stubborn adventurers. They''ll follow me into battle." Zinov thought, ''Pavel is not a soldier, so I can''t order him around. Even though I''m stronger, we''re both still Tier 5.'' Zinov leans back, studying Pavel. "Ok, I trust your judgment." The bustling marketplace of Crass City moves as usual, unaware of the storm about to descend upon it. Merchants haggle over prices, carts creak under the weight of goods, and the scent of freshly baked bread mingles with the metallic tang of sharpened steel from the local blacksmith. But beyond the city walls, a different kind of business is unfolding. Pavel and the adventurers, hardened warriors from different field, have taken positions around the outskirts, waiting for the right moment to strike. Hidden in alleys, on rooftops, and within the tree line, they hold their breath, ready for the command. Unbeknownst to them, Varkas already knows they''re coming. Thanks to the Shadows, the monster army is prepared. Sorin, Nyssara, Thurn, and Veltha stand at the ready with fifty thousand disciplined soldiers, concealed along both flanks of the city. They wait, poised like coiled vipers, allowing the adventurers to step further into their trap before the jaws snap shut. Sorin crouches in the shadows, her daggers glinting faintly in the dim light. Her eyes remain locked on the rooftops, watching the movements of the adventurers. "They''re moving in as expected," she whispers. Nyssara, standing nearby, flexes her elongated sword-limbs. "Good. Let them come. When they commit to the attack, we''ll strike from both sides." Thurn tilts his head, his voice calm but laced with malice. "And if they try to retreat?" Veltha coils her serpentine lower half, her fangs glistening with venom. "Then they die tired." They wait. Then¡ª A figure rises into the sky, floating above the city like an omen of destruction. Zinov. His presence commanding and ominous. Channeling his energy, he unleashes a Tier 4 skill¡ªa massive torrent of fire that engulfs the city''s outer defenses. The sudden explosion sends shockwaves through Crass City. Pavel raises his greatsword, rallying his comrades, "Now! For Ordeya!" With a unified roar, the adventurers charge, breaching the city''s perimeter amidst the chaos. At that moment, Varkas gives the signal. From the shadows, the monster forces surge forward, encircling the unsuspecting adventurers. Sorin leads her unit with lethal precision, targeting the rear guard. Nyssara''s soldiers clash head-on, their brute strength halting the adventurers'' momentum. Thurn''s contingent rains venomous arrows from elevated positions, sowing further confusion. Veltha''s forces strike from the flanks, cutting off any chance of retreat. Pavel, realizing the trap, bellows, "Hold the line! Don''t let them divide us!" But the ambush is expertly executed, exploiting the adventurers'' fragmented formation and lack of cohesive strategy. Chapter 120 120: The Waiting Trap (part 2) Despite their valor, the adventurers find themselves overwhelmed, their assault on Crass City turning into a desperate fight for survival. Above, Pavel watches the unfolding chaos, his expression unreadable. Amidst the turmoil, Varkas steps forward, his eyes locked onto Zinov. With a deep growl, his form begins to shift. Muscles bulge, bones crack, and dark fur sprouts across his body. In moments, he stands transformed¡ªa towering lycanthrope, embodying both human intellect and wolf ferocity. Pavel, observing from the ground, lets out a hearty laugh, gripping his massive greatsword with anticipation. "So, you''re all here," Pavel calls out, his voice echoing over the battlefield. "That means no one is stopping Zinov." Varkas''s lupine eyes narrow as he responds, his voice a guttural snarl. "You think I''m the only Tier 5? There are others who will handle Zinov. But you," he points a clawed finger at Pavel, "will find your grave here." Without further warning, Varkas lunges at Pavel with blinding speed, his claws aiming for Pavel''s throat. Pavel raises his greatsword just in time, the clash of steel against claw ringing out. The force of the impact sends shockwaves through the ground, causing nearby combatants to stumble. Pavel grins, pushing back against Varkas''s strength. "Finally," Pavel says, his green eyes gleaming with excitement. "A real challenge." He pivots, using his momentum to swing the greatsword in a wide arc aimed at Varkas''s midsection. Varkas leaps back, narrowly avoiding the blade, and retaliates with a swift kick to Pavel''s chest. Pavel skids backward but remains upright, his armor absorbing most of the blow. The two warriors circle each other, the battlefield around them a blur of clashing forces. Varkas''s lycanthropic senses allow him to anticipate Pavel''s moves, while Pavel''s combat experience and raw power make him a formidable opponent. Pavel feints to the left before darting right, aiming to flank Varkas. Varkas, anticipating the move, spins and brings his greatsword down with immense force. Pavel crosses his arms, blocking the strike but dropping to one knee under the pressure. Pavel, still kneeling from the force of Varkas''s strike, tightens his grip on his greatsword and smirks. "I admit, you''re very strong" he taunts, rising to his feet. "But do you know why we adventurers can defeat stronger opponents?" As if on cue, two figures appear behind Pavel. They are humanoid monsters, both strikingly beautiful, adorned in ornate robes that shimmer with arcane energy. Their eyes glow softly, indicating their magical prowess. Varkas''s expression twists into one of disgust. "You enslave monsters to do your bidding?" he growls, his claws flexing. "Your kind''s depravity knows no bounds." Pavel shrugs nonchalantly. "I prefer to think of it as utilizing all available resources. Meet Lera and Selene, my trusted aides." Lera, a lithe figure with emerald hair, begins chanting, her hands weaving intricate patterns in the air. A golden aura envelops Pavel as she casts "Fortify Vitality," a Tier 3 spell that enhances his endurance and accelerates healing. Simultaneously, Selene, with her silver locks cascading down her back, raises her staff and intones a melodic incantation. A translucent barrier forms around Pavel, the "Aegis Shield," a Tier 4 spell that significantly boosts his defense against both physical and magical attacks. Feeling the surge of power from the buffs, Pavel rolls his shoulders and grins. "Now, shall we continue?" Varkas snarls, his disdain evident. "Come on." He lunges forward, his claws aiming for Pavel''s throat. Pavel reacts with heightened speed, parrying Varkas''s strike with his greatsword. The enhanced endurance from Lyra''s spell allows him to absorb the impact without faltering. He counters with a swift horizontal slash, aiming for Varkas''s midsection. Varkas leaps back, narrowly avoiding the blade. He circles Pavel, searching for an opening. With a guttural growl, he unleashes "Rending Claw," a Tier 3 skill that sends a wave of energy shaped like claw marks hurtling toward Pavel. Pavel braces himself as the attack crashes against the "Aegis Shield," the barrier shimmering but holding firm. Seizing the moment, he charges forward, activating "Bull Rush," a Tier 3 skill that propels him with immense force toward Varkas. The sudden burst catches Varkas off guard. Pavel slams into him, sending the lycanthrope skidding backward. Without giving him a chance to recover, Pavel follows up with "Cleave," a Tier 4 skill that delivers a powerful, sweeping strike capable of hitting multiple foes. Varkas manages to raise his arms in defense, but the impact sends a shockwave through his body. He snarls, blood seeping from a gash on his forearm. "Is this how you fight? Hiding behind slaves and spells?" Pavel chuckles, "It''s called strategy. Perhaps you should try it sometime." Varkas''s eyes blaze with determination as he watches Pavel''s smug demeanor. He knows that to overcome Pavel and liberate the enslaved monsters, he must unleash his full potential. With a deep, guttural growl, Varkas begins to channel his inner power. His muscles swell further, veins pulsating with raw energy. Dark fur bristles as a crimson aura envelops his towering frame. He activates "Blood Moon Ascendance," a Tier 5 bloodline skill that taps into the primal might of his lycanthropic heritage, amplifying his strength and agility to unparalleled levels. Simultaneously, Varkas invokes "Howl of the Alpha," a Tier 5 buff skill. Throwing his head back, he releases a thunderous howl that reverberates across the battlefield. The sound waves ripple through the air, infusing him with heightened senses and resilience, while instilling a primal fear in those who dare oppose him. Pavel''s grin falters as he senses the monumental shift in Varkas''s presence. The two enslaved mages, Lera and Selene, exchange uneasy glances, their confidence wavering. "Your reliance on slaves and borrowed power ends here, human," Varkas snarls, his voice a deep, resonant growl. "I will free them from your tyranny." Without waiting for a response, Varkas propels himself forward with blinding speed, closing the distance between them in an instant. He unleashes "Rending Claw," a Tier 3 skill, his claws glowing with a menacing light as they arc toward Pavel''s chest. Chapter 121 121: A Tier 5 Armor Set Zinov leads his twenty thousand soldiers toward Varestand City, the rhythmic march of boots echoing across the plains. As he floats above the advancing army, his sharp eyes scan the city ahead. To his surprise, no formidable defense awaits¡ªonly a handful of guards, most appearing to be mere Tier 1 warriors. Hovering in the air, Zinov furrows his brow, his thoughts turning inward. "Is this all they have left to defend this city?" he muses aloud. "Have they truly committed all their forces to Crass City?" He strokes his chin thoughtfully. "Their intelligence network has always been surprisingly adept," he continues, his voice tinged with suspicion. "They seem to anticipate our every move. Could this be another one of their ploys?" Zinov''s gaze hardens as he surveys the seemingly vulnerable city. He knows better than to underestimate his adversaries. As Zinov''s forces advance toward Varestand City, the Shadows¡ªan elite group of assassins now numbering over a thousand, bolstered by the Umbral race¡ªlie in wait. Among them, Vaelith, Grell, and Tarven, all formidable Tier 5 assassin, observe their target from concealed positions. Vaelith''s eyes narrow as he senses the immense power radiating from Zinov. "This one is strong," he murmurs. "To succeed, we must coordinate our efforts precisely." Grell and Tarven nod in unison. "Understood," Grell replies. "We''ll follow your lead." As Zinov initiates his assault on the city, unleashing a devastating Tier 4 skill that sends shockwaves through the defenses, Vaelith signals the Shadows to move. The assassins emerge from the shadows, converging on Zinov with lethal intent. The assassins emerge from the darkness, converging on the soldiers with lethal intent. Vaelith leads the charge, his twin daggers gleaming with a dark aura. He darts toward Zinov with blinding speed, aiming for the gaps in his ornate armor. Grell and Tarven flank from either side, their Umbral heritage evident as their sharp claws extend, seeking to rend flesh and metal alike. Zinov reacts with uncanny reflexes, his Tier 5 armor absorbing the initial onslaught. He swings his massive sword in a wide arc, forcing the assassins to retreat momentarily. "Foolish," Zinov sneers. Vaelith immediately send a signal to Alix through a device. Turning to Grell and Tarven, he speaks lowly, "Change of plan. We hold him until His Majesty arrives." "Understood," Tarven responds, his claws flexing in anticipation. The three assassins reposition, encircling Zinov. Vaelith feints to the left, drawing Zinov''s attention, while Grell and Tarven exploit the distraction, launching synchronized attacks from behind. Zinov pivots swiftly, parrying Grell''s claws with his gauntleted arm and delivering a forceful kick to Tarven, sending him skidding across the battlefield. "This is quite impressive, a new monster kingdom having four tier 5 combatants." Vaelith seizes the moment, activating a Tier 5 skill, "Shadow Meld," becoming one with the surrounding darkness. He reappears behind Zinov, driving his daggers toward the seams of the armor. The blades find purchase, eliciting a grunt from Zinov. Enraged, Zinov channels his energy, causing his armor to emit a blinding light, forcing the assassins to shield their eyes. He capitalizes on their momentary blindness, slashing his sword toward Vaelith. Vaelith barely evades the strike, feeling the blade''s edge graze his side. Grell and Tarven recover, launching renewed assaults, their claws clashing against Zinov''s radiant armor. The battle intensifies, with the three assassins employing their agility and Umbral abilities to harry Zinov, while he relies on his formidable defense and strength to repel them. Despite their relentless assault, Vaelith, Grell, and Tarven find themselves unable to penetrate Zinov''s formidable Tier 5 armor. Each strike, whether from Vaelith''s shadow-infused daggers or the Umbral claws of Grell and Tarven, is met with an impenetrable defense, leaving them momentarily at an impasse. Recognizing the need for greater power, Vaelith decides to augment his abilities. He steps back, taking a deep breath, and begins to invoke a series of buff skills. His aura intensifies with each incantation: "Shadow Ascendance" (Tier 5): Shadows coalesce around Vaelith, enhancing his strength and agility to superhuman levels. "Shadow Veil" (Tier 4): A dark mist envelops him, rendering his movements unpredictable and obscuring his presence. "Night''s Resilience" (Tier 4): His body''s durability is heightened, allowing him to withstand powerful attacks. Pinterest "Fleetfooted" (Tier 3): His speed increases, enabling rapid repositioning. "Stealth''s Embrace" (Tier 2): His footsteps become silent, and his presence diminishes, making him harder to detect. As these enhancements take effect, Vaelith''s form becomes a blur, the shadows themselves seeming to dance around him. Zinov, observing this transformation, raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Six buff skills?" Zinov remarks, his tone tinged with surprise. "Even I, at level 590, have only mastered four." Without wasting another moment, Vaelith launches himself at Zinov with unprecedented speed. Grell and Tarven, inspired by their leader''s empowerment, synchronize their attacks, flanking Zinov from both sides. Vaelith''s daggers, now imbued with shadow energy, strike at the joints and seams of Zinov''s armor. Grell and Tarven''s claws, enhanced by their Umbral heritage, target the less protected areas, aiming to exploit any weakness. Zinov finds himself on the defensive, his sword movements swift yet increasingly pressured by the trio''s coordinated assault. Despite his armor''s resilience, the sheer ferocity and precision of the attacks begin to take a toll. With a growl of frustration, Zinov channels his energy, causing his armor to emit a blinding light, attempting to disrupt the assassins'' assault. However, Vaelith''s "Shadow Veil" counters the illumination, maintaining the shroud of darkness around them. Sensing an opportunity, Vaelith signals to Grell and Tarven. They nod in understanding, executing a maneuver they''ve practiced countless times. Grell feints high, drawing Zinov''s guard upward, while Tarven sweeps low, aiming for the legs. Simultaneously, Vaelith strikes at Zinov''s exposed side. The combined assault finally breaches Zinov''s defense. A dagger pierces through a gap in the armor, eliciting a pained grunt from Zinov. He staggers back, blood seeping from the wound. Zinov wipes the blood from his side, his eyes narrowing as he assesses the three assassins before him. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. Chapter 122: Alix Arrival (part 1) "Impressive. You three managed to wound me," he acknowledges, his voice a mix of respect and menace. "I suppose it''s only fair I match your enthusiasm." With deliberate focus, Zinov begins to chant, his voice resonating with power as he invokes his buff skills: "Fortitude" (Tier 4): His muscles bulge, veins coursing with enhanced strength, amplifying his physical prowess. "Aegis of the Unyielding" (Tier 4): A shimmering barrier envelops him, reinforcing his already formidable armor with an additional layer of defense. "Hawk''s Reflexes" (Tier 3): His movements become sharper, his reaction time accelerating to near-superhuman levels. "Endless Stamina" (Tier 3): A steady glow emanates from within, granting him relentless endurance to sustain prolonged combat. The air around Zinov crackles with aura as these enhancements take hold, his presence becoming even more imposing. He grips his sword with renewed vigor, the blade humming with latent power. "Now, let''s see how you fare against this," Zinov challenges, his eyes locking onto Vaelith. Without warning, Zinov lunges forward, his sword arcing toward Vaelith with blinding speed. Vaelith barely manages to parry, the force of the blow sending shockwaves through his arms. Grell and Tarven seize the moment to flank Zinov, their claws aiming for the gaps in his armor. Anticipating their maneuver, Zinov pivots with uncanny agility, activating his "Whirlwind Cleave" (Tier 2) skill. His sword spins in a deadly circle, forcing the assassins to leap back to avoid the sweeping blade. "You''re fast," Vaelith admits, his eyes narrowing. "But speed alone won''t save you." Zinov''s smirk deepens. "Let''s test that theory." He slams his sword into the ground, activating "Seismic Rupture" (Tier 4). The earth trembles violently, fissures radiating outward, disrupting the assassins'' footing. Tarven stumbles, and Zinov capitalizes on the misstep, closing the distance with a burst of speed. Raising his gauntleted fist, Zinov unleashes "Meteor Strike" (Tier 3), a devastating downward punch aimed at Tarven. At the last moment, Grell intercepts, tackling Tarven out of harm''s way as the ground where he stood erupts in a cloud of debris. Vaelith uses the chaos to his advantage, activating "Shadow Step" (Tier 3) to teleport behind Zinov. He thrusts his daggers toward the exposed area beneath Zinov''s arm, but Zinov''s "Hawk''s Reflexes" allow him to twist away just in time, the blades grazing his side. "You''re persistent, I''ll give you that," Zinov growls, swinging his sword in a horizontal arc. Vaelith ducks under the blade, rolling to create distance. "You have a great armor. But even the strongest armor has its weak points." Grell and Tarven regroup, their eyes meeting Vaelith''s in silent communication. They spread out, encircling Zinov once more. "Enough of this," Zinov declares, raising his sword high. He channels energy into the blade, preparing to unleash "Blazing Arc" (Tier 4), a sweeping attack engulfed in flames. Recognizing the impending danger, Vaelith shouts, "Scatter!" The assassins dart in different directions as Zinov''s sword descends, a fiery wave erupting from the blade and scorching the ground in its path. Despite their agility, the heat singes their garments, the sheer power of the attack evident. The searing heat of Zinov''s "Blazing Arc" scorches the battlefield, and despite their swift evasive maneuvers, Vaelith, Grell, and Tarven are caught at the fringes of the fiery onslaught. Their garments smolder, and burns mar their skin, the pain evident. Zinov''s eyes narrow as he spots Grell momentarily faltering. Seizing the opportunity, he dashes forward, sword poised to deliver a fatal blow. Just as Zinov''s blade is about to descend upon Grell, a massive crimson energy sword materializes between them, intercepting the attack with a resounding clash. The sheer force sends shockwaves through the air, causing Zinov to skid backward. Vaelith, Grell, and Tarven immediately recognize the presence behind the energy sword. They drop to one knee in unison, bowing their heads. "We greet Your Majesty!" they intone respectfully. Vaelith, still kneeling, speaks with a tone of regret, "Forgive us, Your Majesty. We lack the strength to defeat this human." A commanding voice responds, calm yet authoritative. "It''s okay. You can go now and help the shadows kill the soldiers." The trio rises, casting a final glance at Zinov before retreating to the shadows. Zinov''s gaze shifts to the newcomer. Before him stands Alix, the king of this Erevaris kingdom. His presence exudes confidence and power. "Are you the king of this new kingdom?" Zinov inquires, his tone measured. Alix meets his gaze squarely. "Yes, I am." Zinov sheathes his sword, adopting a diplomatic stance. "My king, the ruler of Valgros, wishes to propose that you cease your attack on the Raltheon Kingdom. In return, we will acknowledge your newly established realm." A chuckle escapes Alix''s lips, growing into a hearty laugh. "Why would I negotiate with a human kingdom I can easily destroy?" Zinov''s expression darkens momentarily, but he quickly regains composure. "I don''t know why you are so confident. From what I can sense, you''ve just broken through to Tier 5." Alix''s eyes gleam with a mix of amusement and challenge. "You''re not wrong. But I''m different." Alix''s presence exudes a palpable aura of dominance as he begins to chant, his voice resonating with power. The atmosphere thickens as he invokes his formidable Tier 5 buff skills: Sovereign''s Might: A golden radiance envelops Alix, amplifying his physical strength to unparalleled levels. Imperial Aegis: An ethereal shield manifests around him, enhancing his defenses and rendering him nearly impervious to attacks. Temporal Acceleration: Time seems to bend around Alix, significantly boosting his speed and reflexes. Arcane Infusion: Mystical energies surge through his being, augmenting his magical prowess and imbuing his attacks with arcane force. Unyielding Will: A steely determination emanates from Alix, bolstering his resistance to mental and physical debilitation. As these enhancements take hold, Alix''s figure becomes a beacon of overwhelming power. The ground beneath him trembles slightly, responding to the sheer force of his aura. Zinov''s eyes widen momentarily, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. He quickly suppresses it, steeling himself. "Impressive display," he concedes, his tone measured. "But raw power isn''t everything." Chapter 123: Alix Arrival (part 2) As Alix''s formidable aura radiates across the battlefield, Zinov''s expression tightens. He takes a deep breath, centering himself, and begins his own incantation. Flames flicker to life around him, intensifying as he activates his Tier 5 buff skill: Infernal Empowerment: A fiery glow envelops Zinov, amplifying his fire elemental abilities to their peak potential. The ground beneath Zinov scorches as waves of heat emanate from his form. His confidence is bolstered not only by this enhancement but also by the formidable Tier 5 armor he wears, renowned for its resilience against both physical and magical assaults. Alix observes Zinov''s transformation with a calm, assessing gaze. The air between them crackles with tension, the clash of their auras causing the very atmosphere to tremble. Without further warning, Zinov raises his hand, summoning a blazing inferno that spirals around his sword. The flames dance menacingly, reflecting in his determined eyes. Alix responds by tightening his grip on his own weapon, its blade shimmering with a blend of arcane energy and sheer force. The battlefield stands still for a heartbeat, the world holding its breath as two titans prepare to clash. Then, with a simultaneous surge, they charge at each other, the ground quaking beneath their might. Their weapons meet in an explosive collision of fire and energy, illuminating the surroundings with blinding light. The sheer force of their encounter sends shockwaves rippling outward, toppling nearby trees and scattering debris. Zinov presses forward, his fire-enhanced strikes coming in rapid succession, each swing aiming to overwhelm Alix''s defenses. Yet, Alix moves with uncanny agility, parrying and countering with precision, his buffs enhancing his speed and strength to match Zinov''s ferocity. As the duel intensifies, the very air becomes a maelstrom of heat and energy, the landscape around them bearing the scars of their monumental battle. Each combatant seeks an opening, a momentary lapse, that could turn the tide in their favor. The battlefield quakes under the might of Alix and Zinov''s clash, their auras colliding in a tempest of power. Zinov, clad in his formidable Tier 5 armor, channels his "Infernal Empowerment," flames wreathing his form as he presses the attack. Alix, bathed in the golden glow of "Sovereign''s Might," meets each strike with unwavering resolve, his movements a blur thanks to "Temporal Acceleration." Seizing an opening, Alix raises his hand, invoking "Stormcall" (Tier 5). Dark clouds swirl overhead, and with a deafening crack, a massive bolt of lightning descends upon Zinov. The ground erupts in sparks and smoke as the electricity courses through Zinov''s armor. Zinov staggers but quickly regains his footing, his eyes blazing. "It''s crazy how this guy has so many Tier 5 skills. He might really be from the other continent," he thought. As the storm''s fury subsides, Alix stands resolute, his gaze fixed upon Zinov. The battlefield, scarred by their clash, smolders with residual energy. Zinov, though visibly injured, refuses to yield. His eyes blaze with determination as he steadies himself, gripping his sword tightly. Alix inclines his head slightly, acknowledging Zinov''s resolve. "Your tenacity is commendable," he said. Without further warning, Alix raises his hand, invoking his next Tier 5 skill: Eruption: The ground beneath Zinov''s feet trembles violently before erupting in a geyser of molten lava. The scorching magma engulfs Zinov, searing his armor and flesh alike. He cries out in agony, barely managing to fly away from the molten onslaught. His once-pristine armor now bears the marks of intense heat, portions of it warped and smoldering. Zinov in the sky, seeking refuge from the relentless assault. His armor, though formidable, now have dents, testaments to the intensity of their clash. The air around him shimmers with residual heat as he hovers, attempting to catch his breath and reassess the situation. Alix, undeterred, watches Zinov''s ascent with a calm, predatory gaze. With a subtle flex of his legs, he propels himself upward, effortlessly joining Zinov in the heavens. The two warriors now face each other amidst the clouds, the vast expanse of the battlefield stretching out below them. "Running won''t save you," Alix remarks, his voice carrying effortlessly through the thinning air. Zinov''s eyes narrow, a mixture of frustration and determination flickering within them. "I''m not running," he retorts, tightening his grip on his sword. "I''m strategizing." Alix offers a faint smile, unimpressed. Without further ado, he raises his hand, summoning his next Tier 5 skill: Celestial Barrage: The sky darkens as luminous, ethereal spears materialize around Alix, each pulsating with raw energy. With a swift motion, he directs them toward Zinov. Zinov''s eyes widen as the spears hurtle toward him with unerring precision. He maneuvers desperately, managing to evade the first few projectiles. However, the sheer number overwhelms him, and several spears pierce through his defenses, searing his flesh and eliciting grunts of pain. As the ethereal spears of Alix''s "Celestial Barrage" dissipate, leaving trails of shimmering light, Zinov hovers amidst the thinning clouds, his breath ragged and labored. The searing pain from multiple wounds gnaws at his resolve. He thinks, "If this continues, I will really die here." His gaze locks onto Alix, who remains composed, an enigmatic figure whose origins and abilities are shrouded in mystery. Zinov''s mind races, unable to discern the nature of the adversary before him. The sheer number of Tier 5 skills Alix commands is staggering, each one executed with devastating precision. Determined to make a final stand, Zinov clenches his fists, summoning the last vestiges of his strength. He knows that retreat is the only viable option, but not without delivering a parting blow. Channeling his remaining energy, he invokes his ultimate Tier 5 skill: Infernal Cataclysm: A maelstrom of fire and brimstone erupts around Zinov, coalescing into a massive sphere of incandescent fury. With a primal roar, he hurls the blazing orb toward Alix, the very air igniting in its wake. Alix''s eyes narrow as the fiery onslaught hurtles toward him. He raises his sword, and with a swift, fluid motion, he calls upon another Tier 5 skill: Abyssal Maelstrom: Dark, swirling winds infused with shadowy energy spiral around Alix, forming a vortex that collides with the incoming inferno. The two forces clash violently, creating a cacophony of roaring flames and howling winds. The sky itself seems to tremble as the opposing energies vie for dominance. The resulting explosion engulfs the battlefield in a blinding light, shockwaves rippling outward, scattering clouds and shaking the earth below. As the brilliance fades, Alix emerges unscathed. As the echoes of their previous clash fade, Zinov breath is ragged and limbs heavy. The relentless exchange has drained him, and the searing pain from his wounds. Alix remains composed. Though the use of multiple Tier 5 skills has nearly depleted his mana, he still has enough mana to employ Tier 4 abilities¡ªmore than sufficient to end this confrontation. Alix''s eyes narrow as he assesses Zinov''s deteriorated state. With a swift motion, he raises his sword, its blade gleaming ominously. He channels his energy into a Tier 4 skill: Arcane Crescent: A sweeping arc of condensed magical energy surges from Alix''s blade, slicing through the air toward Zinov with lethal precision. Zinov''s eyes widen as the shimmering wave hurtles toward him. Summoning his waning strength, he raises his own sword, attempting to parry the incoming attack. The collision sends a jarring shock through his body, forcing him back several feet. His muscles scream in protest, exhaustion threatening to overtake him. Alix doesn''t relent. He advances, unleashing a flurry of Tier 4 skills in rapid succession: Gale Strikes: Blades of wind slice through the atmosphere, each one aimed with deadly accuracy at Zinov. Stone Lance: Jagged spears of rock erupt from the ground, targeting Zinov''s position with unyielding force. Zinov dodges and deflects as best he can, but the relentless assault begins to overwhelm him. For the first time in years, a sensation he thought long buried resurfaces¡ªfear. The stark realization grips him: "If this continues, I will die here." But then, a surge of determination flares within him. "No," he thinks fiercely, "I will not die here. His Majesty still needs me." Below the soldiers locked in fierce combat witness Zinov''s desperate attempts to evade Alix''s relentless assault in the sky. The once-dominant marshal now resembles a frightened rat, darting through the sky, his fiery aura dimmed. This unexpected turn sows confusion among his ground forces, their morale wavering as they glance upward, distracted by their leader''s plight. Encircling these disoriented troops are the Shadows. Until now, the soldiers'' tight formation had stymied the Shadows'' efforts, presenting a formidable wall of shields and spears. But as uncertainty spreads through the ranks, gaps begin to appear in their defense. The disciplined cohesion that once held firm starts to unravel. Seizing this opportunity, the Shadows move with synchronized lethality. They slip through the faltering defenses, blades flashing under the dim sky. Silent and efficient, they exploit every opening, their daggers finding chinks in armor, their movements a blur amidst the chaos. The battlefield becomes a stage for a grim ballet, where the Shadows weave between foes, leaving lifeless forms in their wake. The soldiers, already shaken by Zinov''s apparent defeat, are ill-prepared for this sudden onslaught. Panic surges through their ranks as comrades fall, their formation collapsing into disarray. Some attempt to regroup, barking orders over the clamor, while others, gripped by fear, turn to flee. The Shadows give no quarter, pressing their advantage with ruthless efficiency. Amidst the turmoil, the ground is slick with blood, the air thick with the cries of the wounded and dying. The once-organized battalion is reduced to scattered pockets of resistance, each swiftly extinguished by the relentless assassins. The massacre unfolds with brutal finality, a testament to the devastating impact of a leader''s fall on the morale and effectiveness of his troops. Chapter 124: I Surrender Zinov hurtles toward the ground, his body battered and energy nearly spent. Alix descends gracefully beside him, his expression calm yet resolute.? "I guess this is the end," Alix states, his voice steady. Zinov, with a defiant glint in his eyes, reaches into his pouch and retrieves a shimmering crystal. With a swift motion, he crushes it in his hand. Instantly, his form vanishes, leaving behind only a faint shimmer in the air. Alix raises an eyebrow, a hint of surprise flickering across his face. "A teleportation crystal," he muses aloud. "Didn''t expect to see one here." He pauses, reflecting on the implications. "In the game, these were rare items," he continues, speaking to himself. "Their teleportation range depended on their rarity¡ªthe higher the grade, the farther they could transport you." A slight smirk tugs at the corner of Alix''s mouth. "Interesting," he murmurs. "Normally, preventing such an escape is straightforward with the right skills. There''s a Tier 5 ability specifically designed to block the lowest rarity of teleportation crystal." He exhales, a mix of amusement and intrigue in his tone. "But who would have thought a native of this world would possess such an item?" the scent of charred earth and the metallic tang of blood linger in the air. Amidst the remnants of the skirmish, Vaelith materializes beside Alix, dropping to one knee in deference. "Your Majesty," Vaelith reports, his voice steady, "the enemy forces have been eliminated." Alix nods, his gaze sweeping over the aftermath. "Good," he responds. "Ensure their belongings are collected before disposing of the remains." "As you command, Your Majesty," Vaelith replies, rising to his feet. He signals to the Shadows, who swiftly begin the grim task of gathering weapons, armor, and any valuables from the fallen soldiers. Satisfied with the proceedings, Alix turns away from the scene. With a thought, he accesses the system interface, selecting the option to return to his palace. In an instant, a soft glow envelops him, and he vanishes from the battlefield, leaving his subordinates to complete the post-battle rituals. --- Varkas and Pavel''s battle rages on, with Varkas steadily gaining the upper hand. Pavel, sensing defeat, abruptly disengages and attempts to flee. As he retreats, he commands his two enslaved monster companions to attack: "Lera, Selene¡ªstop him!" Pavel''s voice is sharp, and the slave marks near their chests glow ominously, compelling them to obey. The two women, their eyes filled with reluctance and pain, step forward, preparing to unleash their magic upon Varkas. Varkas, however, moves swiftly. With a surge of speed, he closes the distance between them and places a hand on each of their shoulders. "Rest now," he murmurs, his voice gentle yet firm. A calming energy emanates from him, and both women collapse into unconsciousness, freed momentarily from their torment. Without wasting another moment, Varkas focuses on Pavel, who is now a considerable distance away. Drawing upon his enhanced agility, Varkas sprints after him, closing the gap with remarkable speed. Pavel glances back, panic flickering across his face as he sees Varkas approaching rapidly. He attempts to quicken his pace, but it''s futile. Within moments, Varkas is upon him. "You can''t run from me!!" Varkas growls. Pavel turns, desperation driving him to swing his greatsword wildly. Varkas sidesteps the clumsy attack with ease and delivers a decisive strike to Pavel''s chest. The force sends Pavel sprawling to the ground, his weapon slipping from his grasp. Coughing and struggling, Pavel looks up at Varkas, fear evident in his eyes. "Please... have mercy," he pleads. Varkas''s expression hardens. "Did you show mercy to those you enslaved?" Pavel opens his mouth to respond, but Varkas doesn''t give him the chance. With a swift, powerful motion, he ends Pavel''s life, ensuring he can no longer harm another soul. Standing over Pavel''s lifeless body, Varkas exhales deeply, the weight of the battle settling upon him. He then turns back toward the battlefield. As the battle draws to a close, the adventurers find themselves overwhelmed and begin a desperate retreat. Varkas stands amidst the chaos, his keen eyes observing the enemy''s disarray. He raises his voice, commanding his forces. "Do not let them escape! Cut off their retreat and finish this!" His soldiers respond with renewed vigor, pressing the attack and preventing the adventurers from fleeing. The battlefield soon falls silent, the enemy either defeated or captured. Varkas surveys the aftermath, his expression resolute. He turns to his troops. "Gather all weapons, armor, and valuables from the fallen. Ensure nothing of use is left behind. Once the looting is complete, dispose of the bodies properly." The soldiers nod in understanding and begin the grim task of collecting items from the fallen adventurers. As Varkas oversees the collection of weapons and valuables from the fallen adventurers, a member of the Shadows approaches him, bowing respectfully. "General Varkas," the Shadow reports, "His Majesty has vanquished the enemy forces on the Varestand city. The battlefield is secured." Varkas''s eyes light up with admiration. "Our king never ceases to amaze," he says, a proud smile forming. "I would have relished witnessing his prowess firsthand once more." The Shadow nods in agreement. Varkas takes a deep breath, the weight of the recent battle still evident. "Let''s ensure our duties are completed swiftly. Our king''s victories inspire us all to strive for excellence." "Understood, Commander," the Shadow responds before returning to his tasks. Varkas casts a final glance over the battlefield, his thoughts momentarily drifting to the image of his king in combat, before refocusing on the responsibilities at hand. ---- In the days following the decisive victory over the Raltheon Kingdom, the cities of Erevaris¡ªMisorn, Delon, Cras, and Varestand¡ªbuzz with excitement and admiration for their sovereign, King Alix. Marketplaces are abuzz with animated discussions, and taverns brim with lively conversations about the recent triumph. In Misorn''s bustling central square, vendors enthusiastically share the news with their customers. "Did you hear?" a fruit seller exclaims, handing a ripe apple to a customer. "His Majesty single-handedly crushed the Raltheon forces! They didn''t stand a chance." Nearby, a group of young women converse in hushed, excited tones. "Not only is our king powerful," one says, her eyes sparkling, "but have you seen him? He''s incredibly handsome." Another giggles, adding, "And rumors said the he is still unmarried. Imagine being the queen of such a mighty ruler." In Delon''s main tavern, patrons raise their mugs in celebration. "To King Alix!" a burly orc toasts, his voice echoing through the establishment. "May his reign be long and victorious!" A lizardfolk patron nods in agreement. "I''ve never seen leadership like his. He commands with strength and wisdom." Throughout Erevaris, the sentiment is unanimous: King Alix''s strength, wisdom, and charisma have solidified his place as a revered and admired leader. The kingdom eagerly anticipates a future of prosperity and security under his rule. ---- In the desolate city of Sindwind, the once-bustling streets now lie eerily silent. Abandoned homes and shuttered shops stand as testament to the mass exodus that has taken place. Only a few souls remain, trapped by circumstance. Inside a modest, dimly lit home, young Zale sits close to his mother, Elira. The flickering light from a single candle casts long shadows on the walls, mirroring the uncertainty that weighs heavily upon them. "Mama, why did everyone leave?" Zale''s voice trembles, betraying his fear. Elira pulls him closer, her hand gently stroking his hair. "The monsters... they''ve taken Varestand. Sindwind is next." Her voice is steady, but her eyes glisten with unshed tears. "Why didn''t we go too?" he asks, looking up at her with wide, innocent eyes. She sighs, the weight of their predicament pressing down on her. "The journey to the next city is long and treacherous. Without a horse or cart, we''d have to travel on foot through the wilderness." "But others left." "They had means we don''t." She cups his face, forcing a reassuring smile. "We have to stay strong, Zale. We''ll find a way." ---- In the grand hall of the royal palace, King Edric sits heavily upon his ornate throne, his gaze fixed on the intricate patterns of the marble floor. The weight of recent events presses down on him, rendering the opulence around him hollow. A trusted advisor, approaches cautiously, his footsteps echoing in the vast chamber. Bowing deeply, he addresses the king. "Your Majesty, the latest reports have arrived," His advisor begins, his voice laced with apprehension. Edric''s eyes flicker upward, meeting his advisor''s. "Speak," he commands, though his tone lacks its usual authority. He clears his throat. "Our forces were utterly decimated. Not a single soldier returned." The king''s face pales further, disbelief etched into his features. "And Zinov? What of him?" He hesitates, then delivers the crushing news. "Defeated, Your Majesty. The reports indicate that even his formidable strength was no match for the king." Edric leans back, his head resting against the cold metal of his throne. He closes his eyes, the reality of their situation sinking in. "Zinov... defeated," he murmurs, more to himself than anyone else. "I never thought I''d see the day." A heavy silence envelops the room. After a long pause, Edric opens his eyes, a glimmer of resolve surfacing amidst the despair. "We still have the artifact," he states, though doubt tinges his words. King Edric sits heavily upon his ornate throne, the weight of recent events pressing down on him. His fingers drum anxiously on the armrest as he contemplates the artifact''s potential. Doubt clouds his mind; even with such a powerful relic, I have a feeling that the chances of defeating that monstrous king seem slim. The Advisor stands nearby, his expression a mix of concern and anticipation. The silence in the grand hall is palpable. Finally, Edric exhales deeply and straightens his posture. Chapter 125: Subject Kingdom (part 1) "Prepare a message to the Kingdom of Erevaris." Aldric''s brow furrows slightly. "Your Majesty?" Edric meets his advisor''s gaze. "Inform them that we, the Kingdom of Valgros, seek to become a subject kingdom under their rule. We acknowledge their strength and wisdom, and in these dire times, we believe unity is our best path to survival." The Advisor hesitates for a moment, then bows deeply. "As you command, Your Majesty. I will ensure the message is dispatched immediately." ---- In his working chamber, King Alix stands before a large map of the realm, his piercing gaze scanning the territories. A soft knock interrupts his contemplation. The door opens, revealing Sissari, the Minister of Foreign Affairs¡ªa three-eyed, serpent-like being whose movements are fluid and hypnotic. "Your Majesty," Sissari begins, her voice smooth and measured, "the Raltheon Kingdom has sent word. They accept becoming our subject kingdom." Alix raises an eyebrow, a hint of surprise flickering across his face. "Oh? I expected them to resist until the end. This is unexpected." Sissari inclines her head slightly. "Indeed, Your Majesty. However, considering the circumstances, perhaps they see the wisdom in aligning with us." Alix nods thoughtfully. "Perhaps. Bridging the divide between humans and monsters will take time. Their submission may ease this transition." "You are correct, Your Majesty," Sissari agrees. "Historically, humans in this world have enslaved monsters. Overcoming such deep-seated prejudices will be challenging." Alix''s expression hardens with resolve. "We must guide them toward a new understanding. Go to the King of Raltheon. Explain what it means to be a subject kingdom under Erevaris." Sissari bows deeply, her serpentine form undulating gracefully. "As you command, Your Majesty. I shall depart at once." --- As the sun begins its descent over Eldoria, the capital city of the Raltheon Kingdom, a remarkable sight unfolds in the sky. A carriage, drawn by flaming, monstrous horses, soars gracefully above the rooftops, casting an ethereal glow over the cobblestone streets below. At the reins are two imposing figures: Grixx, a formidable lizardman, and an ogre whose massive frame exudes strength. Inside the carriage sits Sissari, her presence both commanding and enigmatic. The citizens of Eldoria pause in their daily routines, their gazes fixed skyward, mouths agape in astonishment. "By the gods, do you see that? A carriage... flying!" exclaims a merchant, his hands trembling as he shields his eyes from the sun. "Never in my life have I witnessed such a marvel," murmurs a scholar, clutching his scrolls tighter. "Not even the Valgros Kingdom possesses such wonders. Is this truly possible?" A young boy tugs at his mother''s sleeve, his eyes wide with wonder. "Mama, look! The horses are on fire, but they don''t burn up!" His mother, equally captivated, nods slowly. "It''s as if the legends have come to life before our very eyes." As the carriage glides closer to the palace, the crowd''s murmurs grow louder, a mixture of awe and apprehension. "Who could command such power?" a blacksmith wonders aloud, wiping soot from his brow. The floating carriage descends gracefully, coming to a halt before the grand entrance of the royal palace. Guards stationed at the gates exchange uneasy glances, their hands instinctively tightening around their spears. The citizens maintain a respectful distance, their collective breath held in anticipation of what this unprecedented arrival portends for the future of the Raltheon Kingdom. In the grand throne room of Raltheon''s palace, King Edric sits upon his ornate throne, the weight of recent decisions evident in his posture. The chamber is adorned with intricate tapestries and gilded columns, reflecting the kingdom''s storied history. A herald''s voice echoes through the hall, breaking the contemplative silence. "Your Majesty, the Minister of Foreign Affairs from the Erevaris Kingdom has arrived." The massive doors swing open, revealing Sissari, flanked by two imposing figures clad in resplendent gold armor. Edric''s gaze immediately fixes on the soldiers, recognizing their formidable presence. Two tier 5 monsters, he muses internally, the magnitude of their power, is greater than he expected. Sissari advances with a fluid grace, her movements almost hypnotic. Stopping a respectful distance from the throne, she offers a slight bow, her elongated form undulating subtly. "Greetings, King of the human kingdom," Sissari intones, her voice smooth and measured. "I am Sissari, Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Kingdom of Erevaris. I come to elucidate the terms of your kingdom''s new status as a subject under Erevaris." King Edric straightens, his expression a blend of resolve and curiosity. "We are prepared to listen, Minister Sissari. Please, proceed." Sissari''s three eyes focus intently on Edric. "As a subject kingdom, Raltheon will retain internal autonomy, governing its people and managing domestic affairs without interference. However, in matters of defense and foreign policy, alignment with Erevaris is imperative. Our enemies will be your enemies; our alliances, yours." Edric nods slowly, absorbing the implications. "And our military forces?" "Your army will integrate with ours during times of external threat, operating under unified command to ensure cohesive strategy and execution." The king''s fingers drum lightly on the armrest. "Tributes?" "A yearly contribution will be required to support the collective strength of our alliance. This may be in the form of resources, troops, or other assets deemed valuable." Edric''s gaze shifts to the golden-clad guards. "And the presence of the monsters within our borders?" Sissari''s tail flicks slightly. "Citizens of Erevaris are permitted to travel freely throughout your cities." Edric''s jaw tightens. "And if these... citizens commit crimes on our soil?" "Well, you have the right to detain them," Sissari concedes, "but they must be transferred to Erevaris authorities for trial and sentencing." The king''s knuckles whiten as he grips the armrest. "So, justice is to be outsourced?" "It is a measure to ensure fairness and prevent potential biases, given the historical tensions between our peoples," Sissari replies smoothly. Edric exhales sharply, the weight of concession pressing heavily upon him. "Is there more?" Sissari''s eyes narrow slightly. "Yes. His Majesty requires the immediate emancipation of all monster slaves within your kingdom." Chapter 126: Subject Kingdom (part 2) A murmur ripples through the court. Edric''s eyes widen. "You ask us to release them?" "Not ask, King Edric. Demand." Sissari''s voice remains calm but carries an unmistakable edge. "Any individual found to be in possession of monster slaves henceforth will face execution." The room falls into a stunned silence. Edric''s mind races, contemplating the societal upheaval this decree will unleash. "This will not be easy. Our economy¡ªour very way of life¡ªrelies on¡ª" "Change is seldom easy," Sissari interjects. "But it is necessary. The era of subjugation ends now." Edric leans back, the weight of the throne suddenly more burdensome than ever. "Very well. We will comply." Sissari inclines her head. "Your cooperation ensures a harmonious future between our kingdoms." The envoy turns gracefully, the golden-armored guards following in lockstep. As they depart, the heavy doors closing behind them, Edric remains seated, the enormity of the moment settling over him like a shroud. After the nobles have departed, King Edric leans back in his throne, exhaling a long sigh. He turns to his advisor, Ekarick, standing nearby.? "The terms are more lenient than I anticipated," Edric admits, rubbing his temples. "I expected demands for human slaves and exorbitant monthly tributes." Ekarick nods, his expression mirroring the king''s surprise. "Indeed, Your Majesty. Their requests are more humane than those of the other two kingdoms." Edric sighs again, his gaze distant. "You''re right. It''s unexpected." Ekarick hesitates before speaking. "Your Majesty, how shall we proceed with the emancipation of all slaves? It''s not only the nobles who own them; many common citizens do as well." Edric straightens, resolve hardening his features. "Issue a decree announcing our new status as a subject kingdom of Erevaris. Make it clear that all slaves must be freed immediately. Anyone who refuses will face execution." Ekarick inclines his head. "And the nobles, sire? As you''re aware, many among them..." Edric''s eyes narrow. "Arrest those who resist. Hand them over to Erevaris or execute them for everyone to see. It''s time to remove the weeds for the future of this kingdom, and for my son." Ekarick bows deeply. "As you command." The morning sun casts a golden hue over the bustling marketplace of Raltheon. Merchants arrange their wares, children dart between stalls, and the aroma of freshly baked bread fills the air. Yet, an undercurrent of tension weaves through the crowd as news of King Edric''s decree spreads like wildfire. At the heart of the square, a group of nobles, draped in opulent garments, congregates near the marble fountain. Their faces, usually composed, are etched with disbelief and indignation. "This is preposterous!" Lord Beric''s voice rises above the din, his clenched fist trembling. "How does the king expect us to manage our estates without our monster servants?" Lady Lara, her emerald necklace catching the sunlight, nods vehemently. "Indeed! Has His Majesty forgotten the centuries of tradition that have upheld our society?" Another noble, a stout man with a ruddy complexion, grumbles, "It''s not just tradition; it''s our economy. Releasing them disrupts everything." Nearby, common citizens gather in small clusters, their faces a mix of confusion and concern. A blacksmith wipes soot from his brow, muttering, "Without the kobold apprentices, how am I to meet my quotas?" A washerwoman wrings her hands, whispering to a friend, "The monster maid has been with our family for years. She''s like kin. But... what choice do we have?" As days pass, the unrest simmers. Petitions circulate, clandestine meetings are held, and whispers of dissent grow louder. The nobles, in particular, are vocal in their opposition, some openly defying the decree by retaining their monster slaves. Then, on the third day, the tension reaches its zenith. In the central square, a makeshift gallows stands ominously against the morning sky. A crowd gathers, murmurs of curiosity and fear intertwining. Guards lead forth Lord Berric, his hands bound, his face pale but resolute. A herald steps forward, unrolling a parchment. "By order of King Edric, Lord Berric is found guilty of defying the royal decree mandating the release of all monster slaves. The penalty is death." Gasps ripple through the assembly. Lady Lara pushes to the front, her voice trembling. "This is madness! You cannot do this!" The herald''s gaze remains unwavering. "The law is clear. Let this serve as a warning." The execution proceeds swiftly. As Lord Berric''s lifeless body hangs, a heavy silence blankets the square. The message is unmistakable. In the following days, the resistance dissipates. Nobles quietly release their monster slaves, and commoners follow suit. The fear of sharing Lord Berric''s fate quells further dissent. In the royal chambers, King Edric stands by the window, observing the city below. His advisor, Ekarick, approaches. "Your Majesty, the decree is being followed. The execution had the desired effect." --- A month has passed since King Edric''s decree, and the streets of Eldoria, the capital of the Raltheon Kingdom, have undergone a subtle yet profound transformation. Monsters from the Erevaris Kingdom now traverse the city openly, their heads held high, embodying a newfound dignity. Humans, though visibly uneasy, have adapted to this change, acutely aware of their kingdom''s submission to Erevaris. In the bustling marketplace, a monster adorned in a simple tunic examines a merchant''s array of fruits. His massive frame casts a shadow over the stall as he picks up an apple, inspecting it with a discerning eye. The merchant, an elderly man with a weathered face, forces a smile. "Fine choice, sir. That apple''s fresh from the orchards this morning." The minotaur nods, reaching into a leather pouch to retrieve coins. As he hands them over, his gaze meets the merchant''s. "Your produce is renowned even in Erevaris. It''s good to finally experience it firsthand." Nearby, a group of human children play a game of marbles. Their laughter fills the air until a towering monster approaches, his steps causing the ground to tremble slightly. The children freeze, eyes wide with apprehension. Another monster crouches down, a gentle smile softening his otherwise fearsome features. "Don''t stop on my account. I used to play this game in my youth. May I watch?" Chapter 127: Three Peak Tier 5 Subordinates (part1) The children exchange hesitant glances before one of them, a boy with a mop of unruly brown hair, nods cautiously. "You... you played marbles too?" The monster, a hulking troll with slate-gray skin and curved tusks, chuckles, his deep voice carrying no menace. "Of course. Though, I was not very good at it." The tension eases slightly. One of the girls, braver than the rest, nudges a marble toward him. "Wanna try?" The troll carefully picks up the marble between two thick fingers, rolling it experimentally before flicking it forward. It bounces off another marble and spins to a stop. The children erupt into laughter. "You really weren''t very good at it!" the brown-haired boy exclaims. Across the marketplace, a different scene unfolds. A group of monsters¡ªbeasts, humanoids, and hybrids alike¡ªstand near the main fountain, observing the humans with open curiosity. Most of them have never seen a human city before, having lived deep in the forests or the mountains, far from the reach of human civilization. A serpent-like woman with emerald scales, Veltha, coils idly on a low stone wall. She watches the humans bustle about, her golden eyes gleaming with interest. "So this is what a human city?" she muses aloud. "It''s... underwhelming." Nyssara, a lithe arachne, perches on the edge of a merchant''s awning, her sharp gaze scanning the streets. "Compared to the five cities of Erevaris, this is nothing," she agrees. Her tone is neutral, but there is an undeniable hint of superiority in it. ------ In the grand library of the Erevaris Palace, Alix sits at a polished oak desk, the soft glow of magical light illuminating the parchment in his hands. His eyes scan the report detailing the recent alliance between the Valgros and Ordeya kingdoms, their refusal to acknowledge Erevaris, and their condemnation of Raltheon for submitting to the monsters. Alix exhales slowly, placing the parchment on the desk. "So, they''ve finally broken their silence after a month." Across from him, General Varkas stands with arms crossed, his brow furrowed. "Their pride was wounded, your majesty. It''s no surprise they''ve united in defiance." "Our next target is the Ordeya Kingdom," Alix declares, his voice resolute. "The recent battle decimated their ranks, claiming the lives of many adventurers, including their strongest. They''re now as vulnerable as Raltheon." General Varkas, standing nearby in his dark armor, nods in agreement. "Your Majesty, shall I prepare the army? Our forces have swelled to seventy thousand. Even divided, they can effectively assault multiple cities." Alix raises a hand, signaling patience. "Not yet. Let''s wait until the army masters the ''Finger Of The Death God'' skill before initiating our assault." Varkas inclines his head. "As you command. Currently, they can manifest it to a limited extent." Alix''s eyes narrow with determination. "Once they achieve full proficiency, we''ll strike." ----- In the expansive training grounds of Erevaris, seventy thousand soldiers stand in disciplined formation under the midday sun. Their collective focus manifests as a colossal, ethereal finger hovering above them¡ªa tangible embodiment of the "Finger of the Death God" skill. This formidable display signifies their readiness to confront even tier 5 beings, despite the majority being tier 2 or tier 3 warriors. grounds, King Alix observes the spectacle, his expression a mix of pride and determination. General Varkas stands beside him, clad in his customary dark armor, eyes fixed on the army below. Alix breaks the silence. "They''ve achieved full manifestation." Varkas nods, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Indeed, Your Majesty. Their dedication has borne fruit." Alix''s gaze remains on the soldiers. "With this power, even our lower-tiered troops can challenge the thier 5 adversaries." Varkas turns to face the king. "Shall I issue the order to mobilize against the Ordeya Kingdom?" Alix pauses, considering. "Yes. Inform the commanders to prepare for departure. The time has come to act." Varkas bows slightly. "As you command, Your Majesty." Commander Nyssara, surveys the scene with a gleam in her multiple eyes. "Finally, we are going to war again," she hisses, her excitement palpable. Beside her, Veltha, coils gracefully. "Our patience has paid off," she murmurs, her eyes reflecting the towering manifestation above. Thurn lets out a low chuckle. "Two months of relentless training," he rumbles, "and now we stand on the precipice of battle." General Varkas approaches the group, his armor gleaming under the sun. "Commanders," he addresses them, "King Alix has given the order. We march on the Ordeya Kingdom and continue this war." ---- In the grand war room of the Erevaris palace, King Alix stands at the head of a massive, intricately carved table. Around him, the five monster commanders¡ªNyssara, Veltha, Thurn, Sorin, and Varkas¡ªawait his words. A messenger kneels before the king, having just delivered news. Alix''s piercing gaze meets the messenger''s. "So, Raltheon has send ten thousand human soldiers?" The messenger nods. "Yes, Your Majesty. They are prepared to march at your command." Alix''s eyes narrow slightly as he processes the information. "Ten thousand soldiers from Raltheon," he muses. "That''s more than I anticipated." He turns to Varkas. "General Varkas, I''ll leave it to you to determine their placement within our forces." Varkas inclines his head. "As you command, Your Majesty." Alix scans the faces of his assembled commanders, his expression resolute. "That''s all I needed to address. May fortune favor you all. Return victorious." The commanders, a diverse assembly of formidable beings, exchange determined glances. Nyssara''s multiple eyes gleam with anticipation, Veltha''s emerald scales shimmer as she nods, and Thurn''s massive form radiates readiness. As usual, Sorin watches Alix''s face intently. With a unified purpose, they bow to their king before departing to lead their forces into battle. Alix returns to his workspace, a spacious chamber lined with towering bookshelves and adorned with intricate tapestries depicting the history of Erevaris. The large oak desk at the center is barely visible beneath the mountain of parchments, scrolls, and documents awaiting his attention. With the kingdom''s activities in full swing, administrative tasks have multiplied. Sighing, Alix sinks into the high-backed chair, rubbing his temples before reaching for the nearest document. As he begins to read, a soft knock echoes through the chamber. "Enter," Alix calls out, not looking up. The door opens quietly, and Draya steps in, her presence bringing a subtle calm to the room. She observes the weary expression on Alix''s face and approaches with a gentle smile. "Your Majesty, what''s with the long face?" she inquires softly. Alix looks up, surprised. "Oh, Draya. I thought you were busy today." She nods, her hands clasped neatly before her. "I was, but I finished my tasks early." Her eyes flicker to the cluttered desk. "Is there anything else I can assist you with, Your Majesty?" Alix leans back in his chair, rubbing his temples briefly before offering a faint smile. "Just the usual snack would be appreciated." Draya''s smile warms. "Of course, Your Majesty. I''ll have it brought to you shortly." She hesitates for a moment, then adds, "And perhaps some tea to help you relax?" Alix''s smile grows slightly. "That sounds perfect. Thank you, Draya." She inclines her head gracefully. "It''s my pleasure, Your Majesty." With that, she turns and exits the room, leaving Alix momentarily distracted from his burdens by her considerate presence. ---- Alix exhales deeply, leaning back in his chair as he surveys the now-organized desk. "Finally," he murmurs, "it''s done." With a flick of his hand, a translucent status window materializes before him, displaying the latest figures of his kingdom. The population count reads 834,673. Though the growth appears rapid, he knows it''s the result of integrating the monster populations from the Raltheon Kingdom, and it won''t increase significantly unless he conquers the other two kingdoms. His gaze lingers on the number, a hint of frustration flickering across his features. "If only the system recognized the citizens of my subject kingdom as my own," he muses aloud. "That would push our numbers over two million and elevate me to tier six." Shaking off the thought, Alix shifts his focus to the kingdom''s treasury. The status window updates to reveal: Gold Coins: 2,137,450 He nods appreciatively. "More than two million gold," he notes. "It''s time to invest in strengthening our forces." His mind races through the possibilities, but one stands out. "Reviving a peak tier five subordinate would provide the high-end combat prowess we currently lack," he concludes. Alix navigates through the system''s interface, searching for available peak tier 5 subordinates. Three options materialize before him, each accompanied by detailed information: [Zarvok the Infernal Juggernaut Revive cost: 2,000,000 Level: 599 Race: Demon Abilities: Mastery over hellfire, immense physical strength, and near-impervious armor. Background: Once a feared warlord in the Abyssal Plains, Zarvok''s rampage was halted by a coalition of heroes who sealed him away.] [Sylara the Enchantress of Shadows Revive cost: 2,000,000 Level: 599 Race: Dark Elf Abilities: Expertise in dark magic, illusion crafting, and manipulation of shadows. Background: A former high priestess exiled for delving into forbidden arts, Sylara''s name became synonymous with whispered fears in the night.] [Gorath the Earthshaker Revive cost: 2,000,000 Level: 599 Race: Giant Abilities: Control over seismic forces, unparalleled strength, and durability. Background: An exiled giant who once roamed the mountainous regions.] Alix leans back, contemplating the choices before him. Each of these beings possesses formidable power that could significantly bolster his kingdom''s strength. Alix leans back in his chair, contemplating the options before him. He mutters to himself, "In terms of combat power, Gorath is the strongest, followed by Zarvok. Sylara, while not as physically dominant, offers the most versatility with her abilities." He taps his fingers on the desk, weighing the strengths and weaknesses of each potential subordinate. "Gorath''s strength, capable of conjuring seismic phenomena, could devastate enemy fortifications," he muses. "Zarvok''s mastery of hellfire would be invaluable in large-scale battles. But Sylara''s expertise in dark magic and illusions could provide strategic advantages beyond brute strength." Chapter 128: Three Peak Tier 5 Subordinates (part 2) Alix continues to deliberate. "Sylara''s versatility in dark magic and illusions is tempting," he murmurs, "but we''re in the midst of war. We need raw power to break through enemy defenses." He recalls reports detailing the Ordeya Kingdom''s formidable city barriers, particularly the capital''s. "Their defensive spells are robust," he reflects. "Even Varkas might struggle against them." His thoughts turn to Gorath. "A giant with control over seismic forces," he muses. "If anyone can shatter those barriers, it''s him." Decision made, Alix said. "Let''s see if the Earthshaker can live up to his name," he says. Alix rises from his chair, determination hardening his features. With a swift motion, he activates the teleportation. In an instant, the familiar surroundings of his chamber dissolve, replaced by the dimly lit expanse of the resurrection chamber. The chamber hums with latent energy, its walls inscribed with ancient runes pulsating softly. Alix approaches the platform, his footsteps echoing in the vast space. He places his hand upon the cold stone, channeling his will into the system interface. A translucent screen materializes before him, displaying the list of available subordinates for revival. Without hesitation, he selects Gorath the Earthshaker. "Confirm revival of Gorath the Earthshaker for 2,000,000 gold coins?" the system prompts. "Confirm," Alix affirms. The chamber''s ambient hum intensifies as the runes flare to life, casting shifting shadows across the walls. A vortex of energy coalesces above the platform, swirling with earthen hues and crackling with power. The ground trembles slightly as the energy condenses, taking form. Moments later, the towering figure of a giant emerges from the dissipating energy. Standing at ten meters tall, Gorath''s presence is imposing. His skin resembles weathered stone, and his eyes glow with a subdued, molten light. Despite his massive stature, he moves with deliberate grace as he steps down from the platform. Gorath surveys his surroundings briefly before his gaze settles on Alix. Without hesitation, he descends to one knee, bowing his head in deference. "Your Majesty," Gorath''s voice resonates deeply, echoing through the chamber, "thank you for reviving me. I am ready to serve." Alix nods, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "Rise, Gorath. Your strength is needed now more than ever." Gorath stands, his towering form casting a long shadow. "Command me, and I shall lay waste to those who oppose you." Alix stands before Gorath, the towering giant whose presence commands attention. With a calm yet authoritative tone, Alix speaks, "Vaelith." From the shadows, Vaelith materializes silently, his form emerging as if woven from darkness itself. He bows slightly, acknowledging Alix''s summons. Alix gestures towards Gorath. "Gorath is here," he states. "Explain to him everything he needs to know." Vaelith inclines his head. "Yes, Your Majesty," he replies, his voice smooth and unwavering. Satisfied, Alix turns away, the air shimmering briefly as he teleports back to his working chamber, leaving the two alone in the resurrection chamber. Gorath''s molten eyes focus on Vaelith, a flicker of recognition crossing his stony features. A deep, rumbling chuckle escapes him. "Oh, Vaelith," he rumbles, "long time no see." Vaelith allows a rare, subtle smile to touch his lips. "Indeed, Gorath," he responds. "Much has changed since we last stood together." ---- General Varkas leads the formidable force of seventy thousand monsters toward Eldoria City. The army halts at the city''s outskirts, confronted by ranks of human soldiers standing in formation. The atmosphere is tense as both sides assess each other. From the city''s gates, King Edric himself emerges, his regal presence commanding attention. He strides toward Varkas, his expression a blend of respect and resolve. "General Varkas," King Edric begins, his voice steady, "welcome to Eldoria. We are prepared to provide the supplies and support you require." Varkas inclines his head, acknowledging the king''s greeting. "Your Majesty, your cooperation is appreciated. Our forces will benefit greatly from your provisions." The citizens of Eldoria line the streets, their eyes wide with astonishment and apprehension as they witness the monstrous army within their city. Whispers ripple through the crowd. As the monstrous army of Erevaris marches through the streets of Eldoria, a hushed awe blankets the city. Citizens line the cobblestone roads, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fascination. An elderly man, his face lined with years of hardship, shakes his head slowly. "So that''s the army of the Erevaris Kingdom," he murmurs to no one in particular. "No wonder we lost." Nearby, a young woman clutches her child''s hand tightly, her gaze fixed on the towering figures passing by. "I never imagined such creatures existed," she whispers. A merchant, his stall momentarily abandoned, observes the disciplined ranks. "They''re not the monstes we all know," he notes. "Look at their formation, their coordination. This is a true army." Amidst the procession, General Varkas rides at the forefront, his armor gleaming under the overcast sky. His piercing gaze scans the crowd, noting the mixture of emotions etched on the faces of Eldoria''s citizens. From the southern gate, the rhythmic march of additional troops draws attention. Ten thousand human soldiers from Raltheon enter the city, their banners fluttering in the breeze. They seamlessly integrate into the monstrous ranks, a testament to the new alliances forged in the crucible of war. A young soldier from Raltheon glances sideways at his monstrous counterparts, his expression a blend of curiosity and apprehension. "Never thought I''d be marching alongside orcs and trolls," he mutters. Beside him, a towering orc with scarred features grins, revealing sharp tusks. "First time for everything, human," he rumbles. "Just don''t slow us down." The soldier chuckles nervously. "I''ll do my best." As the unified army continues its march through Eldoria, the lines between former enemies blur, and a new chapter in the realm''s history begins to unfold. After replenishing their supplies in Eldoria, the combined forces of Erevaris and Raltheon resume their march toward the Ordeya Kingdom. The army stretches across the horizon, a formidable blend of monstrous and human soldiers moving with unified purpose. As they traverse rolling plains and dense forests, the soldiers engage in quiet conversations, bridging the gaps between their diverse backgrounds. ----- In the grand hall of the Ordeya palace, Queen Seraphina stands before a towering window, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon. The afternoon sun casts long shadows across the marble floor, reflecting the weight of the news she anticipates. Marshal Medren enters briskly, his armor clinking softly with each step. He bows deeply. "Your Majesty." Queen Seraphina turns, her expression calm yet attentive. "Marshal Medren, what news do you bring?" Medren straightens, his face etched with concern. "Your Majesty, our scouts report that the combined forces of Erevaris and Raltheon have resumed their march toward our borders. At their current pace, they will reach our capital within a week." The queen''s eyes narrow slightly as she processes the information. "How large is their force?" "Approximately ninety thousand strong," Medren replies. Queen Seraphina moves to a nearby table, unrolling a detailed map of the kingdom. Her fingers trace the routes leading to the capital. "And our defenses?" Medren steps forward, pointing to various locations on the map. "Our city walls are fortified with the latest defensive spells, and our garrisons are fully manned. However, facing such a vast army, our resources will be stretched thin." Seraphina nods thoughtfully. "We must utilize every asset at our disposal." She looks up, determination in her eyes. "Issue a request to the Adventurers'' Guild. Offer a bounty of 100 gold coins for every enemy soldier they eliminate." Medren hesitates, concern flickering across his face. "Your Majesty, after the devastating losses the adventurers suffered in the last battle, I fear many will be reluctant to take on this quest." Seraphina''s expression remains resolute. "I understand, Medren. Few may accept, but even a small force can harass the enemy, slow their advance, and diminish their numbers. Every bit of resistance counts." Medren bows, accepting the command. "As you command, Your Majesty." He turns and strides from the hall to carry out the order. Left alone, Queen Seraphina gazes out the window once more, her mind racing. As the first woman to rule the Ordeya Kingdom, she has transformed it into the wealthiest of the three kingdoms. She silently vows not to let the approaching monsters destroy all that she has built. ---- Two days into the march, the combined forces of Erevaris and Raltheon traverse a dense forest, the canopy filtering sunlight into dappled patterns on the ground. The rhythmic sound of boots and hooves against the earth is suddenly interrupted as shimmering arrows, glowing with arcane energy, descend from the treetops. "Ambush!" a Raltheon soldier shouts, raising his shield just in time to deflect a magic-infused arrow that bursts into sparks upon impact. Nyssara swiftly assesses the situation. "Form defensive positions! Shields up!" She commands, her voice cutting through the chaos. The monsters troops of Erevaris and the human soldiers of Raltheon instinctively tighten their ranks, shields interlocking to create a protective barrier against the relentless rain of magical projectiles. A towering orc beside Sorin growls, scanning the dense foliage. "Can''t see the attackers, commander. They''re concealed in the trees." "Archers!" Sorin bellows. "Return fire! Aim for the treetops!" Raltheon archers swiftly notch arrows, their eyes narrowing as they seek out elusive targets amidst the leaves. They release a volley, arrows whistling through the air toward the suspected positions of the hidden assailants. Raltheon archers swiftly notch arrows, their eyes narrowing as they seek out elusive targets amidst the leaves. They release a volley, arrows whistling through the air toward the suspected positions of the hidden assailants. A human soldier near the rear staggers as a magic arrow grazes his arm, leaving a searing burn. He grits his teeth, gripping his sword tighter. "These aren''t ordinary arrows. They''re laced with some kind of sorcery." Chapter 129: Arrive At The Border City (part 1) As the echoes of battle fade and the adventurers retreat into the dense forest, General Varkas surveys the aftermath. Five adventurers lie motionless on the ground, their lifeless forms a testament to the ferocity of the skirmish. Nearby, three human soldiers nurse wounds, their faces contorted in pain.? Varkas raises his hand, signaling the army to halt. His deep voice resonates through the ranks. "Hold position! Tend to your wounds and assist the injured." The soldiers and monstrous allies move swiftly, some retrieving medical supplies, others helping the wounded to a more secure area. The camaraderie between the diverse forces is evident as they support one another. Varkas''s piercing gaze then falls upon Sorin, who stands nearby, wiping blood from her daggers. "Sorin," Varkas commands, his tone firm yet measured, "take a team of scouts and advance ahead. Ensure we aren''t led into another ambush." Sorin sheathes her daggers and nods, her expression resolute. "Understood, General. I''ll select our best and depart immediately." Varkas places a hand on her shoulder, his eyes conveying both trust and urgency. "Be thorough but swift. We can''t afford delays, but neither can we risk another surprise attack." "I''ll make sure of it," Sorin assures him. "We''ll cover the terrain meticulously and report back with any findings." "Good," Varkas replies, releasing his grip. "May the shadows guide your steps." Sorin turns on her heel, scanning the assembled troops. She quickly identifies a group of seasoned scouts¡ªboth human and monster¡ªand signals them to gather. "We''re moving out," she informs them. "Stay alert and silent. Our objective is to secure the path ahead and prevent further surprises." The selected scouts nod in unison, their faces set with determination. Without further ado, they melt into the underbrush, their movements swift and stealthy. As the army progresses through the dense forest, Sorin leads her team of scouts ahead, her twin daggers gleaming in the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy. Her sharp eyes scan every shadow, every rustling leaf, attuned to the slightest hint of danger. On several occasions, would-be ambushers barely have time to react before Sorin''s blades find their mark, eliminating the threat swiftly and silently. Those who manage to escape her assault flee. After days of careful navigation and preemptive strikes, the army emerges from the forest unscathed. In the evening, as campfires flicker and soldiers tend to their gear, Sorin approaches the central command tent where Nyssara, Thurn, and Veltha are gathered around a map with General Varkas. Varkas looks up as Sorin enters. "Thanks to your efforts, we''ve avoided further ambushes." His tone carries both gratitude and respect. Sorin inclines her head modestly. "The scouts performed admirably. We encountered several groups lying in wait, but they were dealt with before they could pose a threat." Nyssara smirks. "Word of our exploits is spreading. The five of us are becoming quite the legends across the three kingdoms. So some probably fleed after seeing Sorin." Thurn said. "After our clash with the Valgros Kingdom''s Black Knight, it''s no surprise. Defeating such a formidable foe has only added to our renown." Veltha nods thoughtfully. "I guess it''s a good thing the adventurers are hesitating. If they weren''t, we''d be having a hard time." As the army settles into the evening camp, General Varkas stands before a large map spread across a makeshift table, illuminated by the flickering light of nearby torches. He addresses the assembled commanders¡ªSorin, Nyssara, Thurn, and Veltha¡ªhis tone resolute. "According to this map," Varkas begins, tracing a path with his finger, "we''re approaching the border city of Ordeya. Once we secure it, we''ll divide our forces to expedite the conquest of the remaining cities." Nyssara, arms crossed, leans in to examine the map. "Splitting up will allow us to cover more ground," she acknowledges, "but it also means we''ll be more vulnerable individually." Thurn nods in agreement. "True, but our recent victories have dwindled their forces. If we maintain our momentum, they''ll struggle to mount significant resistance." Veltha, his eyes scanning the map, adds, "We should coordinate our movements carefully. Establishing communication lines between our divided forces will be crucial to respond to any unforeseen challenges." Sorin, her fingers lightly tapping the hilt of one of her daggers, speaks up. "Speed and precision will be our allies. If we strike swiftly and decisively, we can prevent them from regrouping or organizing counterattacks." Varkas nods, a determined glint in his eyes. "Exactly. We''ll finalize the details of our division after the border city fall. For now, rest and prepare. Tomorrow, we march at dawn." The commanders exchange affirming glances, understanding the weight of the tasks ahead. As the meeting concludes, they disperse to oversee their respective units, ensuring readiness for the battles to come. After several days of relentless marching, the army finally reaches the outskirts of Ordeya. The city looms ahead, its formidable walls bristling with defenders. Banners of both Ordeya and Valgros flutter atop the ramparts, and a vast assembly of soldiers and adventurers¡ªnumbering around 30,000¡ªstand ready for battle. General Varkas surveys the imposing scene, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Well," he remarks dryly, "it appears they''ve rolled out the welcome mat for us." Nyssara, standing beside him, lets out a low whistle. "Quite the gathering. They must be feeling the pressure to muster such a force." Thurn adjusts his grip on his weapon, eyes narrowing. "They know what''s at stake. Ordeya is their shield; if it falls, the path into their heartland lies open." Veltha nods thoughtfully. "Their unity suggests they''ve set aside differences to confront our advance. This won''t be a simple siege." Sorin, her twin daggers gleaming in the sunlight, steps forward. "Then we should strike decisively, general. A prolonged siege favors them, not us." Varkas''s gaze lingers on the city''s defenses. "Agreed. We''ll convene tonight to devise our strategy. For now, ensure the troops are rested and ready. Tomorrow, we make our move." The commanders exchange resolute nods before dispersing to prepare their respective units for the impending assault. Chapter 130: Arrive At The Border City (part 2) In the fortified war room of Ordeya''s central keep, five generals convene around a large wooden table strewn with maps and strategic plans. The air is thick with the gravity of the impending siege. General Tesorn of Ordeya, a seasoned leader with graying temples, breaks the silence. "Our defenses are prepared," he states, his voice steady. "The magic cannons are positioned along the eastern and southern walls, and our archers are stationed at every vantage point." Beside him, General Albruck of Valgros, known for his tactical acumen, nods in agreement. "Our combined forces are as ready as they can be," he adds. "However, we must acknowledge the strength of the approaching army. Despite our preparations, there''s a significant chance we won''t be able to halt their advance entirely." General Medel of Ordeya, leans forward, his brow furrowed. "Our primary objective, then, is to diminish their numbers substantially," he asserts. "If we can reduce their forces by half, we''ll not only weaken their immediate assault but also hinder their capacity for future offensives." General Jherin of Valgros, her eyes sharp and calculating, interjects. "Agreed," she says. "We should focus on targeted strikes, utilizing the magic cannons to break their formations and create chaos within their ranks." General Rostin, the last of Ordeya''s representatives, strokes his beard thoughtfully. "Additionally," he suggests, "Marshal Medren will be on standby if that Tier 5 monster decides to move." As the sun sets over Ordeya, casting long shadows across the city walls, a weary soldier named Dorel stands atop the watchtower. His eyes scan the horizon where the enemy''s encampment sprawls, fires flickering like malevolent stars. A knot of fear tightens in his stomach; every man in the city knows their grim fate¡ªthey are mere cannon fodder in this impending siege. The presence of their families within the city''s walls, a strategy devised by the Valgros generals to ensure unwavering defense, only deepens the weight on their hearts. Dorel''s thoughts drift to his wife and young son, asleep in their modest home. Lost in his turmoil, Dorel''s attention snaps back to the present as a dark silhouette materializes just beyond the city''s protective barrier. The figure, draped in a black robe, exudes an aura of menace and purpose. Dorel''s hand instinctively grips the hilt of his sword, but before he can sound the alarm, the figure''s voice cuts through the tense air¡ªcalm, yet laced with an unsettling confidence. "Relax, human," the stranger intones. "I come not as an enemy tonight, but with a proposition." Dorel''s heart pounds in his chest. The figure before him is undoubtedly one that can kill him instantly, a Tier 4 assassin, a rank signifying lethal skill and unmatched cunning. "What... what do you want?" Dorel manages, his voice barely above a whisper, wary of waking the city to this ominous visitor. "We are aware," the assassin continues, "that your families are held within these walls, a tether binding your will to fight. It is a cruel manipulation." Dorel''s grip on his sword tightens, knuckles whitening. The truth in the assassin''s words stings. "We offer you a way out," the figure says, stepping closer but stopping just at the barrier''s edge. "Tomorrow, amidst the chaos, open the gate for us. In return, we give you our word¡ªthe civilians will remain unharmed. No blood needs to be shed among the innocent." Conflicted emotions surge within Dorel¡ªhope, guilt, fear. "And if I refuse?" The assassin''s voice remains steady, devoid of threat yet heavy with implication. "Then the siege will proceed as planned. And in the chaos of battle, we cannot guarantee the safety of anyone within these walls." Dorel''s mind races. Betray his comrades to save his family? Or uphold his duty and risk losing everything he holds dear? The weight of the decision threatens to crush him. "Consider my offer," the assassin says, sensing the turmoil. "When the first light touches the horizon, choose where your loyalties lie¡ªwith those who see you as expendable, or with the lives of those you love." With that, the figure dissolves into the shadows, leaving Aldric alone atop the watchtower, the distant murmur of the enemy camp and the weight of an impossible choice his only companions. In the dimly lit command tent, Sorin, Nyssara, Thurn, and Veltha pore over a map spread across a sturdy wooden table, strategizing for the impending siege. Without warning, the shadows in the corner of the tent coalesce, forming the silhouette of the Tier 4 assassin. His sudden appearance causes Nyssara to instinctively reach for her daggers, but she relaxes upon recognizing the familiar figure. The assassin inclines his head slightly toward Sorin. "Commander Sorin," he begins, his voice a low murmur, "I have delivered the message to one of their soldiers as instructed." Sorin meets his gaze, her expression one of measured appreciation. "Thank you for your swift action," she replies, acknowledging their equal standing within the ranks. The assassin''s lips curve into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Think nothing of it," he responds. "It is all in service to His Majesty''s cause." With a final nod, the assassin''s form dissolves back into the shadows, leaving the commanders to their preparations. As dawn breaks over the battlefield, a vast army assembles before the fortified city of Ordeya. Seventy thousand monstrous soldiers stand alongside ten thousand human troops, their ranks a testament to the alliance forged under General Varkas''s command. Despite the formidable force at his disposal, Varkas remains stationary, his gaze fixed skyward. He senses a concealed presence¡ªa powerful aura lurking above. Moving now would provoke the hidden adversary, a confrontation he seeks to avoid to conserve his strength for the decisive moment. The four commanders¡ªSorin, Nyssara, Thurn, and Veltha¡ªstand at the forefront of their respective units, each embodying unique strengths poised for the assault. As the signal to advance is given, the battlefield erupts into chaos. Nyssara''s shield wall leads the charge, a moving fortress that absorbs volleys of arrows and withstands the onslaught of Ordeya''s defenders. The interlocked shields form an impenetrable barrier, reminiscent of ancient formations designed to endure both spells and projectiles. Chapter 131 131: The Barrier Disappear The defenders of Ordeya unleash a barrage of spells and arrows upon the advancing monstrous army. The projectiles streak through the sky, descending upon the front lines with lethal intent. Yet, Nyssara''s shield-bearing unit stands resolute, their interlocked defenses forming an impenetrable barrier. Arrows shatter against the sturdy shields, and spells dissipate harmlessly upon contact. From the city''s walls, Ordeyan archers and mages intensify their assault, aiming to break the advancing formation. However, the cohesion of Nyssara''s shield wall, combined with the monster army''s resilience, allows them to weather the storm. The defenders'' frustration grows as their attacks yield minimal impact. Behind this moving fortress, their own mages begin casting spells, hurling fireballs and bolts of dark energy toward the city''s fortifications. Yet, Ordeya''s protective barriers shimmer into existence, absorbing and nullifying the incoming magic. The city''s defenses hold firm, repelling the arcane assault. Observing the stalemate, Sorin, the assassin commander, turns to Veltha, whose serpentine features glisten under the morning sun. "Veltha," Sorin speaks with urgency, "take your swiftest units and flank their eastern side. Disrupt their archers and create an opening." Veltha''s serpentine eyes narrow with anticipation. "Consider it done," she replies, her voice a melodic hiss. With a fluid motion, she signals to her unit of fast-moving monsters. "Move swiftly and strike true," she commands. Her unit breaks away from the main force, darting across the battlefield with remarkable speed. They weave through the chaos, evading incoming projectiles with great agility. As they approach the eastern flank, Ordeya''s archers scramble to adjust, but Veltha''s forces are upon them before they can react. Veltha slithers up the city''s stone walls with lethal grace. Her dagger gleams under the moonlight as she targets an Ordeyan archer poised to release another volley. She strikes, but the city''s magical barrier flares, halting her blade momentarily. With a hiss of frustration, she channels her Tier 4 skill, and the barrier cracks under the pressure. Her dagger finds its mark, silencing the archer instantly. As the barrier begins to mend, she withdraws her hand, noting its vulnerability to her power. Emboldened, Veltha seeks her next target. She lunges at another archer, but her dagger clashes against a sword that intercepts her strike. Before her stands General Medel, a Tier 4 warrior of Ordeya, his eyes burning with resolve. "Your intrusion ends here, serpent," Medel declares, his voice a mix of authority and disdain. Veltha''s serpentine eyes narrow as she locks onto General Medel, his sword gleaming. The battlefield''s cacophony fades into a tense silence between them. "If you''re that confident," Veltha hisses, her voice dripping with venomous challenge, "come down here. Stop hiding behind your little barrier." Medel''s grip tightens on his sword. "I will kill you, monster!!!," Leaping from the parapet to land gracefully before her. The ground trembles slightly beneath his weight, a testament to his formidable presence. Without hesitation, Veltha strikes first, her dagger a blur aimed at Medel''s throat. He parries with precision, their blades clashing in a shower of sparks. She slithers around him, seeking an opening, but Medel anticipates her movements, countering each attack with disciplined efficiency. Meanwhile, on the other side of the battlefield, Sorin, Nyssara, and Thurn observe the engagement, noting the barrier''s susceptibility to Tier 4 attacks. The realization weighs heavily upon them; only the four of them possess such power. Nyssara, her massive shield slung across her back, steps closer to Sorin. "Sorin," she begins, her voice steady amidst the surrounding chaos, "what if I infiltrate the city and sow chaos from within?" Sorin''s eyes narrow, concern evident. "That''s dangerous. The enemy has at least four Tier 4 warriors inside those walls." Nyssara gestures to her imposing form, her armor gleaming despite the grime of battle. "You don''t have to worry. Do you see my body? It would take a lot of effort to kill me." Thurn, his massive frame looming beside them, grunts in agreement. "I''ll go with her. We can also destroy some civilian houses to make that human decide faster, or we do it ourselves." Sorin contemplates the proposal, the weight of command pressing upon her. After a moment, she nods. "Proceed, but exercise caution. Disrupt their defenses, but minimize civilian casualties. We need the city''s infrastructure intact." Nyssara and Thurn exchange a resolute glance before advancing toward the city''s barrier. Channeling their Tier 4 skills, they breach the weakened magical defenses, slipping into the city. Nyssara stands atop Ordeya''s towering walls, her evolved Arachne form, gleaming under the sun. Her chitinous exoskeleton, reinforced by the consumption of rare ores, resembles a massive, intricately wrought suit of armor. With a calculated breath, she leaps from the battlements, her immense metallic body descending like a meteor toward the clustered Ordeyan soldiers below. The ground quakes as Nyssara lands amidst the defenders, a deafening clang echoing across the battlefield. Dust and debris erupt from the impact, momentarily obscuring the scene. As the cloud settles, soldiers stagger backward, their faces a mixture of awe and terror at the formidable figure rising before them. Without hesitation, Nyssara charges into the fray. Her multiple limbs, each ending in razor-sharp claws, slice through the air with lethal precision. She swats aside spears and swords effortlessly, her armored carapace deflecting blows that would fell lesser beings. An Ordeyan knight lunges at her with a battle cry, his blade aiming for a chink in her armor. Anticipating the move, Nyssara sidesteps with surprising agility, her clawed appendage sweeping across his midsection. The knight crumples, his armor rent asunder. Nearby, Thurn joins the assault. His dark exoskeleton exuding a sinister sheen. Specializing in poisons, Thurn''s attacks are calculated and insidious. He weaves through the chaos, his movements a deadly dance. With a swift jab, he injects a paralyzing toxin into an unsuspecting soldier, who collapses, muscles seizing. Another defender raises his shield, but Thurn''s silk threads ensnare him, the sticky strands laced with a corrosive venom that eats through metal and flesh alike. "Nyssara!" Thurn calls out amidst the clamor, his voice a guttural rasp. "We need to press toward the gatehouse. Disrupt their reinforcements." Nyssara nods, her multifaceted eyes reflecting the carnage around her. "Agreed. Stay close. I will carve a path." --- Dorel''s pulse quickens as he watches the monstrous figures of Nyssara and Thurn breach the city''s barrier and descend upon Ordeya''s streets. Their massive forms wreak havoc, dismantling defenses and instilling terror among the citizens. The cacophony of screams and shattering structures fills the air, underscoring the city''s dire predicament. The weight of his earlier encounter with the assassin presses heavily upon Dorel''s conscience. The promise of his family''s safety in exchange for opening the gate replays in his mind. Determined to protect his loved ones, he steels himself and makes his way toward the gate''s control room, navigating through the chaos engulfing the city. Upon reaching the control room, Dorel halts abruptly. Generals Jherin and Rostin stand guard, their expressions grim and resolute. The room is tense, the air thick with the anticipation of impending decisions. General Jherin''s eyes narrow as she spots Dorel. "Soldier, what are you doing here?" she demands, her voice edged with suspicion. Dorel snaps to attention, masking his inner turmoil. "Sir, two monsters have breached the city and are causing destruction. No one seems able to stop them." General Rostin''s face darkens with concern. "What the hell are the others doing?" he growls, exchanging a glance with Jherin. Jherin''s jaw tightens. "We can''t afford to lose our soldiers. Rostin, let''s move." Without further hesitation, the two generals push past Dorel, their focus solely on confronting the immediate threat. As their footsteps fade into the tumult outside, Dorel is left alone in the control room, the lever to the city''s gate mere steps away. Dorel''s gaze fixes on a glowing orb beside the lever¡ªundoubtedly the barrier''s core. His breath catches as he realizes the weight of his next move. The city''s barrier has always been their primary defense; disabling it could spell disaster. But the memory of the assassin''s proposition and the images of his family flash through his mind. His hands tremble, sweat slicking his palms. He clenches his fists, trying to steady himself. "It''s for them," he murmurs, voice barely audible. Drawing his sword, he hesitates, the blade hovering over the orb. A storm of doubt rages within him. But the distant screams and the thought of his wife and son steel his resolve. With a swift motion, he brings the sword down. The orb shatters, releasing a pulse of energy that sends him stumbling back. The room dims momentarily, and a low hum that had always been present fades away. The barrier is down. Heart pounding, Dorel turns to the lever. His fingers curl around it, knuckles whitening. He takes a deep breath, whispering a silent apology to his comrades. Then, with a grunt, he pulls.? The mechanisms groan in protest, gears grinding as the massive gates begin to part. A gust of cold air rushes in, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and something more ominous. Dorel steps back, the weight of his actions pressing heavily upon him. As the barrier dissipates and the city''s gates begin to creak open, the monster soldiers who had been held at bay surge forward with a collective roar. Their weapons gleam under the sun as they charge through the opening, their eyes burning with anticipation and fury.? On the eastern wall, General Tesorn watches in disbelief as the shimmering barrier vanishes. His eyes widen, and he grips the battlement tightly, knuckles whitening. "What the hell happened?!!" Tesorn mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. "The barrier... it''s gone." Chapter 132 132: Prince Asdri Of Valgros Kingdom As the barrier collapses and the gates groan open, the monstrous horde surges forward with a deafening roar. Human soldiers, already in defensive positions, tighten their grips on weapons and shields, bracing for the onslaught. The two forces collide with earth-shaking intensity. Despite their discipline and training, the human soldiers are swiftly overwhelmed. The monster warriors, towering and ferocious, tear through the ranks with brutal efficiency. Swords and spears glance off thick hides and armored carapaces, while claws and fangs rend through steel and flesh alike. Cries of pain and terror echo as the defenders falter. Atop a nearby hill, General Varkas observes the battlefield. His form stands tall, fur bristling in anticipation. His keen eyes scan the chaos below, noting the swift collapse of human defenses. A low growl escapes his throat, a mixture of satisfaction and anticipation. Looking up, his keen eyes fixate on the faint shimmer in the sky, a telltale sign of invinsibility. His lips curl into a predatory grin, revealing sharp canines. His voice, deep and resonant, cuts through the cacophony of battle.? "Human," Varkas calls out, his tone laced with mockery, "are you not going to aid your people? We are on the verge of conquering your city." The air distorts as Marshal Medren deactivates his invisibility, revealing his imposing armored figure hovering above the battlefield. His expression remains stoic, unreadable. Without a word, he ascends higher into the sky, distancing himself from the fray. Varkas watches Medren''s departure, a guttural chuckle rumbling from his chest. "As always," he muses aloud, "humans are truly cruel." Below, the battlefield is a maelstrom of chaos. The monstrous forces press their advantage, their superior strength and ferocity driving the human defenders back toward the city''s heart. General Varkas''s piercing eyes scan the battlefield, observing his monstrous soldiers overwhelming the human defenders. The clash of steel, the cries of the wounded, and the scent of blood permeate the air. His forces press forward relentlessly, their sheer ferocity and strength driving the humans back toward the city''s heart. Even the enemy generals struggle against his commanders, who are systematically dismantling the human leadership. Varkas stands atop a small rise, his lycanthropic form exuding dominance. He doesn''t need to engage; his army is executing his strategy flawlessly. His ears twitch as he picks up the sounds of combat¡ªclashing weapons, desperate shouts, and the heavy thud of bodies hitting the ground. Nearby, Nyssara confronts General Jherin. The human general''s sword flashes in the sunlight as she delivers a series of precise strikes. Nyssara parries effortlessly with her chitinous limbs, her multifaceted eyes reflecting Jherin''s determination. "You''re resilient," Nyssara acknowledges, her voice a melodic hiss. "But resilience won''t save your city." Jherin grits her teeth, sweat streaming down her face. "As long as we draw breath, we''ll fight." Nyssara''s mandibles click in amusement. "Then prepare to be breathless." With a swift motion, she entangles Jherin''s sword arm in a web of silk, yanking the weapon away. A swift kick sends the general sprawling. Varkas observes these encounters with satisfaction. His commanders are executing their roles with precision, breaking the human leadership and morale. The city''s defenses crumble, and victory seems imminent. He turns his gaze toward the central keep, where the remaining human forces are making a final stand. Varkas signals the advance. The monstrous horde moves forward, an unstoppable tide poised to claim the city. ------ In the heart of Valgros Kingdom''s capital, within the palace''s concealed chamber, King Rewalt stands before a shimmering teleportation portal. The portal''s swirling energies cast an ethereal glow across the stone walls, illuminating the king''s contemplative expression. This gateway connects to one of the three major continents, a testament to the kingdom''s expansive reach. King Rewalt''s gaze remains fixed on the portal, anticipation evident in his stance. He awaits the arrival of his eldest son, Prince Asdri, who had once been destined for the throne but chose the path of exploration over rulership. Moments later, the portal''s surface ripples, and four silhouettes emerge. As they step into the chamber, one of them¡ªa burly man with a thick beard¡ªgrumbles loudly. "Captain, you really should reconsider the location of your kingdom''s portal," he complains, adjusting the heavy pack on his shoulders. "It''s practically at the edge of the continent." Beside him, a slender figure clad in ornate robes rolls her eyes. "Can you stop complaining? I''m tired of hearing you whine," she retorts, her voice tinged with exasperation. Prince Asdri steps forward, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Father," he greets, inclining his head respectfully. "I apologize for our entrance. Allow me to introduce my companions." He gestures to the grumbling man. "This is Pyke, a warrior of unmatched strength." Pyke nods, still adjusting his pack. "Your Majesty," he mumbles. Asdri then indicates the robed woman. "And this is Ingra, a mage whose knowledge surpasses many scholars." Ingra offers a slight bow. "An honor, Your Majesty." The prince continues, introducing the remaining two. "Here we have Famir, a master archer known for his unparalleled precision." Famir, a lithe man with sharp eyes, places a hand over his heart and bows. "And lastly, Valia, a healer whose skills have saved us more times than I can count." Valia, a serene woman with a gentle demeanor, smiles warmly. "It''s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty." King Rewalt''s eyes light up with pride as he steps forward, arms outstretched. "Welcome, everyone. Thank you for accompanying my son on his journey home." His gaze settles on Asdri, a warm smile breaking across his face. "It''s good to see you''re doing well." Asdri inclines his head respectfully. "Thank you, Father. Your unwavering support has been instrumental. I''ve reached level 599 and stand on the brink of breaking through to tier 6." As he speaks, a powerful aura emanates from him, filling the chamber with an intensity that surpasses even that of Marshal Zinov. Rewalt''s laughter resonates through the room. "Excellent! Your strength arrives at a crucial time." Asdri''s expression turns serious. "Father, is it true that a monster has established its own kingdom and is now battling the combined forces of our kingdom and Ordeya?" Rewalt''s face darkens. "It''s true. Raltheon has already submitted to that monster and become its subject kingdom." Hearing this, Asdri''s companions exchange uneasy glances. Pyke clenches his fists, his voice filled with disdain. "What a pathetic king. I''d rather die than bow to monsters." Ingra nods in agreement. "In our continent, monsters have always been a menace, relentlessly attacking human kingdoms and destroying cities." Famir''s eyes narrow. "If Raltheon''s king surrendered so easily, it doesn''t bode well for the rest of us." Valia''s voice is calm but firm. "Then we must stand strong and ensure that doesn''t happen to Valgros." Rewalt nods approvingly at their resolve. "Your determination is commendable. We face a formidable foe, but with your combined strength, we have a fighting chance." Asdri places a reassuring hand on his father''s shoulder. "We won''t let you down, Father. Together, we''ll protect our kingdom and drive back this monstrous threat." Rewalt''s eyes glisten with gratitude. "Then let us prepare. The battle for Valgros''s future begins now." ----- As the sun sets over the ravaged city, the battlefield falls eerily silent. The once-proud human soldiers now lie scattered, either lifeless or kneeling in surrender. The monstrous horde stands victorious, their dominance undeniable. Varkas strides through the debris-laden streets. His piercing eyes scan the remnants of the human forces, noting the absence of their leaders. The generals have fallen, their resistance extinguished. Nyssara approaches, her chitinous limbs glistening under the fading light. Her multifaceted eyes reflect satisfaction. "The city is ours, General," she reports, her melodic hiss carrying a note of triumph. "The human generals are no more. Resistance has crumbled." Varkas nods, a predatory grin revealing sharp canines. "Well done, Nyssara. Our victory here sends a clear message to those who would oppose us." As the monstrous forces secure their victory, the battlefield quiets, save for the occasional groan of the wounded. Amidst the aftermath, a lone human soldier, his armor dented and face smeared with grime, approaches General Varkas and Commander Nyssara. His hands tremble slightly, and his eyes dart nervously. "Excuse me," he stammers, voice wavering. "I''m Dorel. I... I did what you asked. Where is my family?" Nyssara''s multifaceted eyes gleam with recognition. "Ah, so you''re the one who dismantled the barrier and opened the gates," she hisses, a hint of amusement in her tone. Varkas steps forward, his towering lycanthropic form casting a shadow over Dorel. "Rest assured, human," he rumbles, voice deep and resonant. "Your family, along with most civilians, are safe. Your actions have not gone unnoticed, and you shall be rewarded." At that moment, Sorin, a lithe figure with sharp features, approaches. "I can escort you to your family," she offers, her tone softer than the others. As Dorel walks alongside Sorin through the war-torn streets, the weight of his actions presses heavily upon him. The path is lined with detained human soldiers, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and simmering rage. Whispers ripple through their ranks, growing louder and more hostile.? "That''s him," one soldier mutters, eyes narrowing. "The traitor who sold us out." Another sneers, "Hope your thirty pieces of silver were worth it, Dorel." Dorel''s steps falter, his face flushing with a mix of shame and frustration. He clenches his fists, trying to ignore the barbed words. A voice calls out, dripping with venom, "How does it feel to betray your own kind? To watch your comrades die because of you?" Stopping abruptly, Dorel turns to face them, his eyes blazing. "You think I wanted this?" he snaps, his voice shaking. "I did what I had to do to save my family. To save your families!" Chapter 133 133: Firion City, Capital City Of Valgros Kingdom The street falls into a tense silence, Dorel''s outburst hanging heavily in the air. The detained human soldiers, their faces etched with exhaustion and resentment, exchange uncertain glances. Their ingrained beliefs paint monsters as relentless killers, incapable of mercy or restraint. Yet, the reality before them challenges this perception. Unbeknownst to the human soldiers, the monster army undergoes rigorous training to master their emotions, achieving a level of discipline that often surpasses that of humans. This control enables them to act strategically, rather than succumbing to base instincts. One soldier, his voice tinged with reluctant realization, breaks the silence. "Maybe... maybe he has a point. Our families are unharmed." Another, still grappling with the weight of the situation, mutters, "But they''re monsters. How can we trust them?" A third, his tone softer, reflects, "Perhaps we''ve misjudged them. Their actions speak differently than we expected." Sorin, observing the shifting sentiments, speaks gently to Dorel, "Come, let''s reunite you with your family." Dorel nods, a glimmer of hope in his eyes, and continues down the path, leaving the soldiers to ponder the complexities of their new reality. A day has passed since the city''s fall. The monster forces have established control, and the human soldiers face a choice: surrender and serve, or resist and face the consequences. In the central square, General Varkas addresses the assembled captives. "Humans," he begins, his deep voice resonating, "you are now our captives, and don''t think we will let you go. Your city is under our control. However, we offer you a path forward." Murmurs ripple through the crowd. Some soldiers exchange wary glances, while others stare defiantly ahead. Varkas continues, "Those among you who choose to lay down your arms will be given roles as guards within this city. You will maintain order among your own people, ensuring their safety and well-being." A soldier from the front row steps forward, his face etched with skepticism. "And if we refuse?" Nyssara, standing beside Varkas, responds with a calm yet firm tone. "Resistance will not be tolerated. However, understand this: we do not seek unnecessary bloodshed. Cooperation benefits all." Another soldier, younger and visibly shaken, asks, "What guarantees do we have that our families will remain safe?" Varkas meets his gaze. "Your families are under our protection. Your decision will not affect their safety. Our quarrel was with your rulers, not civilians." The crowd remains silent, the weight of the decision pressing upon them. After a moment, an older officer steps forward. "I will serve as a guard. If it means preserving what''s left of our city and people, it''s a duty I''m willing to undertake." Slowly, more soldiers nod in agreement, stepping forward to join the ranks of the city''s new guards. However, a faction remains unmoved. One of them, a hardened veteran with no family ties in the city, speaks up. "I won''t bow to monsters. I''d rather face whatever consequences you have in store." Varkas regards him for a long moment before nodding. "So be it. You will be detained until further decisions are made." In the aftermath of the city''s capture, the monster generals convene in the grand hall of the seized citadel. The room, once adorned with human regalia, now stands as a testament to the monsters'' dominance. General Varkas stands at the head of a massive stone table, his piercing eyes surveying his commanders: Sorin, Thurn, Nyssara, and Veltha. Varkas''s deep voice breaks the silence. "The fall of this city marks a significant victory, but our campaign is far from over. The remaining cities of the Ordeya Kingdom are vulnerable, their defenses lacking. We must act swiftly to capitalize on their weakness." Nyssara said thoughtfully. "General, our scouts report that cities like Shollis and Tavon have minimal garrisons. Their leaders, complacent in their perceived security, will not anticipate an assault." Thurn''s fists clench in anticipation. "Then let''s not keep them waiting. My unit is ready to march at your command.". Veltha, her serpentine eyes narrowing, adds, "A coordinated strike on multiple fronts will sow confusion and hasten their downfall." Varkas nods, his gaze unwavering. "Agreed. Sorin, you and Thurn will lead the assault on the Shollis city. Nyssara and Veltha, your forces will take on the Tavon city." The commanders gather around the expansive map spread across the stone table, their eyes tracing the routes to Shollis and Tavon. The cities lie to the east and southeast, respectively, separated by rolling plains and dense forests. Sorin taps the map near Shollis. "The terrain here is mostly open fields," she observes. "We can cover the distance swiftly without much resistance." Thurn nods in agreement. "A direct march will bring us to their gates before they have time to react." Nyssara''s clawed finger trails along the path to Tavon. "This route cuts through the Shadowfen Woods," she notes. "The dense canopy could provide cover for our approach but might also conceal potential threats." Veltha''s serpentine eyes gleam. "Our forces are adept at navigating such environments. We can use the forest to our advantage, striking swiftly and without warning." Varkas surveys his commanders, pride evident in his gaze. "You all understand the stakes. Move out immediately and show these cities the might of our forces." With synchronized bows, the commanders depart to rally their units. As dawn breaks, the monstrous legions march forth, their disciplined ranks moving with purpose toward their next conquests. ------ Alix and Draya navigate the bustling streets of Firion, the capital city of Valgros, their appearances altered to blend seamlessly with the human populace. The city is alive with festivity; colorful banners stretch across narrow alleys, and the air is filled with the enticing aromas of roasted meats and sweet confections. Street performers captivate onlookers with lively tunes and mesmerizing dances, while children weave through the crowds, their laughter ringing out in delight. Approaching a vendor''s stall adorned with an array of vibrant fabrics, Alix feigns casual curiosity. "Excuse me," Alix begins, his tone light, "what''s the occasion for all these celebrations?" The vendor, a middle-aged man with a friendly demeanor, looks up from arranging his wares and smiles. "You must be a tourists," he replies warmly. "We''re celebrating the return of Prince Asdri from his grand adventure. The entire city is rejoicing in his honor." Chapter 134 134: The Banquet Draya leans in slightly, her eyes reflecting intrigue. "Prince Asdri?" she inquires. "Could you tell us more about his journey?" The vendor''s chest swells with pride. "Ah, Prince Asdri is beloved by all," he says. "He embarked on a quest to distant lands, seeking knowledge and alliances. His return signifies a prosperous era for Valgros." Alix nods appreciatively. "It sounds like a momentous time for the city," he remarks. The vendor gestures to the lively scene around them. "Indeed," he agrees. "Feel free to join the festivities. There''s much to see and enjoy." Thanking the vendor, Alix and Draya merge into the jubilant crowd, their senses absorbing the vibrant tapestry of Firion''s celebration. As Alix and Draya continue through the festive streets of Firion, the rhythmic beat of drums and the harmonious strum of lutes draw their attention to a bustling square. A temporary stage, adorned with vibrant banners depicting the royal crest, stands at the center, surrounded by an eager crowd. Curious, Alix leans toward a nearby spectator. "What''s happening here?" he inquires. The spectator, a young woman with a flower-adorned hat, turns with a smile. "They''re reenacting Prince Asdri''s legendary battle against the Serpent," she explains. "It''s a highlight of the celebrations." On stage, actors in elaborate costumes bring the tale to life. One, portraying Prince Asdri, dons gleaming armor and wields a replica sword that glints under the afternoon sun. Opposite him, another actor, enveloped in a serpentine costume with scales shimmering in shades of obsidian and violet, embodies the menacing Serpent. The narrator''s voice rises above the music. "In the darkened depths of Raven Hollow, the valiant Prince Asdri confronted the dreaded Shadow Serpent, a beast of formidable power threatening our lands." The crowd watches intently as the actors depict the fierce battle. The ''prince'' moves with agility, dodging the serpent''s lunges, while the ''serpent'' coils and strikes, its eyes glowing ominously. Draya observes, her gaze analytical. "They''re portraying the Shadow Serpent as a Tier 4 monster," she murmurs to Alix. "That''s a significant threat level in this kingdom." On stage, the climax unfolds as Prince Asdri delivers a decisive blow, the serpent writhing before collapsing. The crowd erupts into applause, cheering the prince''s victory. The narrator concludes, "With unparalleled bravery, Prince Asdri vanquished the Shadow Serpent, ensuring peace for our realm once more." As the performance ends and the actors bow, Alix turns to Draya. "The prince''s feats have certainly left an impression on his people," he remarks. As Alix and Draya continue their exploration of Firion''s festive streets, the tantalizing aroma of grilled meats, spiced pastries, and sweet confections fills the air. Vendors enthusiastically call out to passersby, showcasing their culinary delights. Draya''s eyes sparkle as she surveys the array of treats. Draya said, while looking around. "The humans certainly know how to celebrate. Everything looks and smells delightful." As they stroll past a luxurious restaurant adorned with golden accents and intricate carvings, Alix''s keen ears catch snippets of conversation from a group of nobles seated near an open window. "The banquet in the palace this evening promises to be the grandest yet," a portly noble in an opulent crimson robe remarks, swirling a goblet of wine. "Indeed," agrees a woman draped in emerald silk, her fingers adorned with sparkling rings. "Prince Asdri''s return is cause for unparalleled celebration. The palace will be resplendent." Alix and Draya exchange thoughtful glances. The banquet could offer valuable insights into the kingdom''s affairs and the esteemed prince. Alix''s gaze lingers on the opulent restaurant where the nobles converse, their laughter and animated discussions about the evening''s banquet filtering through the open window. He turns to Draya, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Draya," he begins, his voice low, "we need to attend that banquet tonight." Draya''s eyes widen slightly, understanding the implications. "But, Your Majesty, we lack invitations. Gaining entry might prove challenging." A subtle smile tugs at the corner of Alix''s lips. "With our abilities, slipping in unnoticed won''t be an issue. However, we''ll need appropriate attire to blend seamlessly." Draya nods in agreement, her demeanor shifting to that of a dutiful attendant. "Understood, Your Majesty. Shall we procure suitable garments for the occasion?" "Yes," Alix affirms. "Let''s find a tailor who can provide us with the necessary attire." As they navigate through the bustling streets. Shops peddle colorful fabrics and garments, their stalls brimming with options. However, Alix seeks something more refined. Spotting a boutique with an elegant fac?ade, its window displaying finely crafted garments, Alix gestures toward it. "This establishment looks promising." Draya steps ahead, opening the door for Alix. "After you, Your Majesty." Inside, the boutique exudes sophistication. Mannequins draped in luxurious fabrics stand poised, showcasing the latest in noble fashion. A tailor, an elderly gentleman with a measuring tape draped around his neck, approaches with a courteous bow. "Welcome," he greets, his eyes assessing the newcomers. "How may I assist you today?" Alix adopts a confident yet approachable demeanor. "My sister and I have been invited to the royal banquet this evening but find ourselves without appropriate attire due to unforeseen circumstances. We require ensembles that befit the occasion." The tailor''s eyes shine¡ªafter all, these customers are nobles. "Ah, the royal banquet is indeed a grand affair. You''ve come to the right place. Allow me to present some selections." He leads them to a section adorned with exquisite garments. "For the gentleman, we have this midnight blue doublet with silver embroidery, paired with tailored trousers. And for the lady, this emerald gown with intricate lace detailing would complement her features beautifully." Draya''s cheeks flush slightly at the compliment but maintains her composure. "They are indeed lovely." Alix nods appreciatively. "These will suffice. We''ll need them tailored promptly." The tailor hesitates. "Such adjustments typically require time, but given the circumstances, I can expedite the process for an additional fee." Alix reaches into his pouch, producing a few gold coins. "Will this cover the urgency?" The tailor''s eyes gleam as he accepts the payment. "Certainly, my lord. Please, follow me for measurements." Chapter 135 135: Innate Ability After a swift yet precise fitting session, the tailor assures them the garments will be ready within the hour. Alix and Draya take the opportunity to explore the nearby market, eventually returning to collect their attire. Dressed in their newly acquired ensembles, they stand before a polished mirror. Alix adjusts the cuffs of his doublet, the silver embroidery catching the light. "We''ll blend in seamlessly." Draya smooths the fabric of her gown, the emerald hue accentuating her complexion. "Indeed, Your Majesty." As evening descends upon Firion, the city lights shimmer in anticipation of the grand banquet. Alix and Draya, now attired to match the nobility, make their way toward the palace, ready to infiltrate the event and uncover the insights they seek. With the aid of an item, Alix and Draya slip unnoticed into the grand palace. They navigate through opulent corridors toward the banquet hall. Inside, the banquet is in full swing. Golden chandeliers cast a warm glow over the vast hall, illuminating tables laden with sumptuous dishes and goblets brimming with fine wines. The air hums with the murmur of noble conversations and the gentle strains of a string quartet. Alix and Draya, now visible and seamlessly blending with the attendees, find seats at a less conspicuous table near the periphery. Alix surveys the array of culinary delights before selecting a plate of roasted pheasant glazed with honey and herbs. He savors each bite, the flavors a testament to the palace''s renowned chefs. Draya, seated beside him, observes intently, noting the dishes that capture his favor. As his personal maid and head of the royal household staff, understanding his preferences is second nature. She leans in slightly, her voice soft to avoid drawing attention. "Your Majesty seems to favor the pheasant this evening," she remarks, a hint of curiosity in her tone. Alix nods, dabbing his lips with a linen napkin. "Indeed, it''s exceptionally prepared. The balance of sweetness and savor is delightful." Draya''s eyes flicker to the other dishes. "And the saffron-infused rice? Does it complement the pheasant to your liking?" He samples a forkful, considering. "It''s palatable, though perhaps a touch over-seasoned for my taste." She notes this with a subtle nod, filing the information away. "I''ll ensure the palace chefs are informed of your preferences." Alix offers a faint smile. "Your attention to detail is, as always, impeccable." Their exchange is discreet, masked by the ambient noise of the banquet. Draya''s role extends beyond mere service; her insights into his tastes and habits are invaluable, especially in unfamiliar settings. As the evening progresses, Alix continues to sample various dishes, while Draya remains vigilant, attuned to his reactions and the subtleties of his palate. As the evening progresses, the grand doors of the banquet hall swing open with a resounding echo, drawing the attention of the assembled nobility. A hush falls over the room as King Erwin strides in, exuding regal authority in his deep crimson robes adorned with golden embroidery. His golden crown, encrusted with precious gems, catches the light of the chandeliers, casting a subtle shimmer. Beside him walks Prince Asdri, the kingdom''s celebrated hero. His tall, athletic frame is clad in a tailored ensemble of midnight blue, accentuated by a sash bearing the royal insignia. His chiseled features and confident demeanor immediately captivate the room. A collective sigh seems to ripple through the hall as many of the ladies find their gazes irresistibly drawn to the prince. Fans flutter to cool suddenly warm cheeks, and whispered admirations circulate discreetly. Alix, seated at a table near the periphery, observes the scene with a neutral expression. Draya, ever attentive, leans in slightly. "Your Majesty," she murmurs, "This human prince appears to have quite the effect on the ladies of the court." Alix''s lips curve into a faint, knowing smile. "It''s to be expected. A returning hero, especially one of his stature, often becomes the focus of admiration." As King Erwin and Prince Asdri take their seats at the elevated table, the hall''s steward steps forward, his voice carrying over the assembled guests. "Let the festivities continue in honor of our esteemed guests!" The musicians strike up a lively tune, and the banquet resumes its merry pace. As the evening progresses, the harmonious strains of a waltz begin to emanate from the orchestra, signaling the commencement of the dance. Nobles throughout the grand hall rise from their seats, gracefully selecting partners and moving toward the center of the room. The atmosphere is charged with anticipation, yet many eyes subtly drift toward Prince Asdri, awaiting his choice. Seated beside Alix at their table on the periphery, Draya observes the unfolding scene with quiet interest. When Prince Asdri stands and begins to stride purposefully across the dance floor, she assumes he is approaching one of the many eager noblewomen vying for his attention. However, as the prince''s path becomes clear, a ripple of surprise courses through the assembly. Conversations hush, and all eyes follow his trajectory¡ªdirectly toward Alix and Draya''s table. Alix''s brow furrows slightly, his posture tensing as he senses the shift in the room''s focus. Halting before their table, Prince Asdri offers a courteous bow, his eyes locking onto Draya''s. "My lady," he begins, his voice smooth and resonant, "would you honor me with this dance?" A collective gasp ripples through the assembly. Whispers surge like an undercurrent: "Who is she?" "I''ve never seen her before." The noblewomen, their initial admiration now tinged with envy, cast daggers with their eyes toward Draya. Draya remains poised, her smile unwavering, though internally, a flicker of annoyance stirs. As a being of monster origin now cloaked in human guise, she feels disgusted being fancied by humans. She rises gracefully, offering Prince Asdri a respectful nod. "Your Highness, I am deeply honored by your invitation. However, I must humbly decline. The hall falls into stunned silence. A noblewoman seated nearby leans toward her companion, her voice a hushed whisper yet audible in the quiet. Prince Asdri''s expression remains composed, though a flicker of surprise dances in his eyes. He inclines his head, a gracious smile gracing his lips. "I understand. The honor was mine to extend." With that, he turns and retreats, leaving a sea of bewildered and curious faces in his wake. Draya resumes her seat beside Alix, who regards her with an amused glint. "Quite the impression you''ve made," he murmurs, his tone laced with subtle mirth. Draya''s smile remains, her eyes reflecting a hint of exasperation. "It was not my intention to become the center of attention." As the waltz melody continues to weave through the grand hall, Draya leans slightly toward Alix, her voice low and meant only for him. "Your Majesty," she murmurs, "would you care to dance?" Alix''s eyes flicker with hesitation. "I would like to," he admits quietly, "but I must confess, I don''t know how." Draya''s brow furrows slightly. "But I recall you''ve danced before, and quite well." Alix offers an awkward smile, searching for words. "Let''s just say, it''s been a while. Perhaps you could guide me? I''m a quick study." A soft chuckle escapes Draya''s lips. "Very well, Your Majesty. Shall we?" Alix rises, extending his hand to her. "Lead the way." They move toward the dance floor, finding a space among the swirling couples. Draya positions herself before Alix, placing his right hand on her shoulder blade and clasping his left hand in hers. "Follow my lead," she instructs gently. "Step forward with your left foot." Alix complies, and together they begin the basic box step of the waltz: forward with the left foot, side with the right, then close the left foot to the right. Draya guides him through the sequence, her movements fluid and assured. Alix mirrors her steps, his confidence growing with each measure. As Alix and Draya continue their waltz, he notices Prince Asdri observing them intently from across the ballroom. A subtle smirk tugs at Alix''s lips as he recalls the information he gleaned earlier using his system. "Draya," Alix murmurs, maintaining the rhythm of their dance, "did you observe Prince Asdri''s reaction when you declined his invitation?" Draya''s eyes flicker toward the prince briefly before returning to Alix. "I did, Your Majesty. He seemed surprised but remained composed." Alix''s smirk deepens. "Indeed. There''s more to him than meets the eye. He possesses an innate ability¡ªa sixth sense." Draya raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "A sixth sense? Like an enhanced intuition?" "Precisely," Alix confirms. "As you already know, some individuals are born with unique talents that set them apart. This sixth sense allows one to perceive dangers or subtleties that others might overlook, it''s a rare gift." As they continue to waltz, Alix maintains a composed expression, his eyes subtly scanning the room to ensure their conversation remains private. "Though," he continues, "I''m uncertain if Prince Asdri is aware of his own innate ability." Draya considers this, her gaze steady. "Your Majesty, if he were aware, wouldn''t he have already attempted to have us arrested?" Alix nods slightly, acknowledging her point. "I suppose you''re right. It''s best we take our leave now." Though Alix feels no fear, he wishes to avoid causing a scene at this moment. There are still matters to attend to in Valgros. With a final graceful turn, they conclude their dance. Alix offers a polite bow to Draya, who curtsies in response. Together, they navigate through the throng of nobles, their exit as unremarkable as their entrance. After slipping away from the palace unnoticed, Alix and Draya navigate the dimly lit streets of Firion. The city''s nightlife is vibrant, with lanterns casting a warm glow over bustling marketplaces and lively taverns. They proceed toward the most luxurious inn in the city, The Gilded Lily, its reputation for discretion and comfort unmatched. Chapter 136 136: Silvercrest Auction House (part 1) The following morning, Alix and Draya make their way through Firion''s bustling streets toward the esteemed Silvercrest Auction House. The establishment''s grand fac?ade mirrors that of the renowned auction house in Raltheon, suggesting a shared heritage. The building''s marble columns and intricate carvings exude an air of exclusivity, hinting at the treasures within. As they approach the entrance, two imposing guards in polished armor cross their halberds, barring entry. "Apologies," one guard states firmly, his gaze assessing their attire. "Access is restricted to nobility and individuals of distinguished status. Today''s auction is under the patronage of Prince Asdri and his esteemed companions; the items presented are of exceptional caliber." Alix exchanges a glance with Draya, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. He then recalls the token bestowed upon him by the elderly at the Raltheon auction house. Reaching into his inner pocket, he retrieves the ornate emblem and presents it to the guard. Upon seeing the token, the guard''s eyes widen in recognition and surprise. He straightens his posture, his demeanor shifting to one of deference. "My sincerest apologies, sir," the guard says, stepping aside promptly. "This token signifies the highest level of patronage within our establishment. Please, allow me to inform my superior of your arrival." The guard gestures for them to enter, his previous sternness replaced with respectful urgency. Alix and Draya exchange a brief, knowing look before proceeding into the opulent interior of the auction house. As Alix and Draya step into the grand foyer of the Silvercrest Auction House, the opulence of the establishment is immediately evident. Gleaming marble floors reflect the light from ornate chandeliers, and intricately woven tapestries adorn the walls. The air is filled with a subtle blend of polished wood and aged parchment, evoking a sense of timeless elegance. Moments after their entry, a distinguished middle-aged man with neatly combed silver hair approaches them. His tailored attire and confident demeanor suggest a person of considerable authority within the auction house. He offers a deep, respectful bow. "Welcome to the Silvercrest Auction House," he greets warmly, his voice smooth and practiced. "I am Cedric Langston, the house manager. It is both an honor and a privilege to host patrons of your esteemed standing." Alix inclines his head slightly in acknowledgment, his expression composed. "Thank you, Mr. Langston. We appreciate your hospitality." Cedric''s eyes briefly flicker to the token in Alix''s hand, and a subtle smile graces his lips. "I see you possess our most exclusive token. Such distinction is reserved for only our most revered clientele." He gestures gracefully toward a grand staircase leading to the upper levels of the auction house. "If you would kindly follow me, I shall escort you to our VVIP lounge. There, you can enjoy unparalleled privacy and comfort as you peruse the items available for today''s auction." Alix and Draya exchange a brief glance before nodding in agreement. "Lead the way," Alix responds. As they ascend the staircase, Cedric maintains a measured pace, ensuring their comfort. The corridor they traverse is lined with exquisite artworks and display cases housing rare artifacts, each piece meticulously curated to showcase the auction house''s prestigious collection. Upon reaching the VVIP lounge, Cedric opens the double doors to reveal an opulent yet tastefully furnished room. Plush velvet seating in deep emerald hues is arranged around a polished mahogany table, upon which rests a selection of fine wines and delicate hors d''oeuvres. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the cityscape, allowing natural light to bathe the room in a warm glow. Cedric steps aside, allowing them to enter. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. Should you require any assistance or have specific requests regarding the auction items, do not hesitate to summon me." Alix leans forward slightly, his gaze meeting Cedric''s. "Mr. Langston," he begins, his tone measured, "I have several items I wish to place in today''s auction."? Cedric''s eyebrows lift marginally, a flicker of intrigue crossing his features. "Of course, sir," he responds smoothly. "May I inquire about the nature of these items?"? Reaching into a satchel at his side, Alix retrieves two meticulously bound tomes, their covers embossed with arcane symbols. He places them gently on the mahogany table between them. "These are a Tier 4 skill book and a Tier 4 spell book," Alix states plainly. Cedric''s eyes widen almost imperceptibly, his composed facade momentarily slipping. "Tier 4, you say?" he echoes, a hint of astonishment in his voice. Alix nods. "Indeed. I understand their rarity and the potential interest they might garner." Cedric''s fingers hover over the tomes, not quite touching them, as if in reverence. "Sir, Tier 4 skill and spell books are exceedingly rare. The last time such an item was presented, it caused a significant stir throughout Valgros." Alix allows a slight smile. "I anticipate these will draw similar attention." Cedric composes himself, nodding thoughtfully. "Undoubtedly. Is there anything else you wish to consign?" Alix reaches once more into his satchel, this time producing a sword of impeccable craftsmanship. The blade gleams even in the subdued lighting, its edge razor-sharp, and the hilt adorned with intricate engravings. "This Tier 4 sword," Alix presents, laying it beside the tomes. Cedric examines the weapon, admiration evident in his eyes. "A remarkable piece," he comments. Alix''s gaze sharpens. "There''s more. This sword houses an embedded skill, allowing the wielder to utilize it instantly without prior learning." Cedric''s head snaps up, disbelief flickering across his face. "An embedded skill?" he repeats, as if ensuring he heard correctly. Alix affirms with a subtle nod. Cedric leans back slightly, exhaling slowly. "Sir, if what you claim is accurate, this sword is beyond extraordinary. Announcing such an item would not only captivate Valgros but would likely draw Ordeya''s attention and prompt them to send a representative." Alix''s expression remains neutral. "I trust the Silvercrest Auction House is equipped to handle such attention?" Cedric straightens, a hint of pride in his posture. "Rest assured, we are more than capable. However, discretion is paramount. With the current tensions involving Raltheon and their alignment with non-human entities, we must proceed cautiously." Chapter 137 137: Silvercrest Auction House (part 2) Alix inclines his head. "I understand. I leave the particulars in your capable hands." Cedric rises, carefully gathering the items. "Thank you for entrusting us with these treasures. I will personally oversee their authentication and ensure they are presented appropriately." Cedric''s gaze lingers on the exceptional items Alix has presented, his mind already calculating the immense interest they will generate. He straightens, his professional demeanor returning. "Sir," Cedric begins, "in light of the extraordinary nature of these items, I propose we delay today''s auction by an hour to properly announce their inclusion. This will allow us to inform our esteemed clientele and ensure that these treasures receive the attention they deserve." Alix nods, his expression calm and understanding. "That''s acceptable. I can wait." "Excellent," Cedric responds, relief evident in his tone. "I shall make the necessary arrangements immediately." With a respectful bow, Cedric departs the VVIP lounge, leaving Alix and Draya in the opulent room. News of the upcoming auction featuring Tier 4 skill and spell books, along with the remarkable sword housing an embedded skill, spreads rapidly throughout Valgros. Messengers are dispatched to noble estates, mercenary guilds, and influential figures across the kingdom. The announcement causes a stir, as such rare and powerful skills or spells are seldom available for public bidding. In the opulent VVIP lounge of the Silvercrest Auction House, Prince Asdri and his companions¡ªPyke, Ingra, Famir, and Valia¡ªare comfortably settled, anticipating the commencement of the day''s auction. The room exudes luxury, with plush seating and a selection of fine refreshments at their disposal. The door opens quietly, and Cedric Langston, the house manager, enters with a composed demeanor. He approaches the prince and offers a respectful bow. "Your Highness," Cedric begins, his tone measured, "I must inform you of a slight delay in today''s proceedings. The auction will be postponed by one hour." Prince Asdri raises an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "A delay? What is the cause, Mr. Langston?" Cedric maintains his professional composure. "A distinguished gentleman has presented several exceptional items for auction, including Tier 4 skill and spell books. To properly announce and authenticate these items, we require additional time." The prince''s companions exchange intrigued glances. Pyke, the burly warrior, leans forward slightly. "Tier 4 skill and spell books? Those are indeed rare." Cedric nods in agreement. "Indeed, they are. Furthermore, Your Highness, I must extend my apologies, as the order of the auction has been adjusted. The item you provided will no longer serve as the finale." Prince Asdri''s eyes narrow slightly. "Oh? And what item has taken its place?" Before Cedric can respond, Ingra, interjects with a hint of skepticism. "Is there an item in the three kingdoms more valuable than our Tier 5 sword? Could it be a Tier 5 skill or spell book?" Cedric offers a subtle smile, choosing his words carefully. "It is not a Tier 5 skill or spell book, Lady Ingra. The item in question is a Tier 4 sword. However, its unique attributes elevate its value beyond that of a standard Tier 5 weapon." Famir, tilts his head in curiosity. "A Tier 4 sword surpassing a Tier 5? What makes it so extraordinary?" Cedric maintains his composed demeanor. "I am bound by discretion and cannot divulge specific details at this moment. However, I assure you that all will be revealed during the auction." Valia, offers a gentle smile. "It seems today''s auction will be more eventful than anticipated." Prince Asdri leans back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Very well, Mr. Langston. We shall await the auction''s commencement with heightened interest." Cedric bows respectfully. "Thank you for your understanding, Your Highness. Should you require anything during the interim, please do not hesitate to summon me." With that, Cedric exits the lounge, leaving the prince and his companions to ponder the unexpected turn of events. The room buzzes with quiet speculation, each member contemplating the nature of the mysterious Tier 4 sword and the impact it may have on the auction''s outcome. An hour passes, and the grand hall of the Silvercrest Auction House buzzes with anticipation. The delay has only heightened the excitement among the attendees. Just as the auction is about to commence, the doors swing open to reveal a distinguished figure clad in the regal colors of Ordeya. The representative strides in, his presence commanding attention. From their vantage point in the VVIP lounge, Prince Asdri and his companions observe the arrival. "It seems Ordeya has sent someone after all," Ingra remarks, her eyes narrowing as she watches the representative take a prominent seat near the front. Pyke grunts, crossing his arms. "Expected. News of Tier 4 skill book and spell book would draw even the most reserved parties." Famir nods in agreement. "Their interest mirrors ours. Let''s see how this unfolds." A hush falls over the hall as Cedric Langston ascends the podium, his demeanor poised and professional. He surveys the assembled guests before speaking. "Esteemed guests," he begins, his voice resonating through the chamber, "we appreciate your patience. The Silvercrest Auction House is honored to present an array of exceptional items today. Without further ado, let us commence." An attendant approaches, presenting a velvet cushion upon which rests a leather-bound tome embossed with a warrior''s emblem. "Our first offering," Cedric announces, "is a Tier 3 Warrior Skill Book: ''Blade Dance.'' This tome imparts the wielder with advanced combat techniques, enhancing agility and precision in battle. Bidding starts at twenty thousand gold coins." A merchant from the eastern territories raises his paddle. "Twenty-five thousand." A noblewoman adorned in emerald silks counters, "Thirty thousand." From the VVIP lounge, Ingra leans slightly forward, observing the bids with keen interest. A burly man, likely a mercenary leader, raises his voice. "Forty thousand." The representative from Ordeya in the VVIP room remains composed, observing the proceedings without participating. Cedric''s gaze sweeps the room. "The bid stands at forty thousand. Any further offers?" A jeweler from the southern isles lifts his paddle. "Forty-five thousand." The noblewoman hesitates, then declares, "Fifty thousand." Cedric nods, "Fifty thousand. Going once, going twice..." Chapter 138 138: Bidding War He pauses, scanning the room for any additional bids. With no further movement, he concludes, "Sold to the lady in emerald for fifty thousand gold coins." A polite round of applause follows as the attendant delivers the tome to its new owner. In the VVIP lounge, Pyke exhales slowly. "If a Tier 3 skill book fetches that price, I can only imagine the bidding wars for the Tier 4 items." As the auction progresses, the subsequent items presented are of lesser significance, eliciting only modest interest from the attendees. The auctioneer steps forward, presenting a set of standard-issue steel gauntlets. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announces, "our next item is a pair of finely crafted steel gauntlets, offering reliable protection for any warrior." A few scattered bids emerge from the floor, with the final offer settling at a modest five hundred gold coins. The auctioneer''s gavel falls. "Sold to the gentleman in the blue cloak for five hundred gold coins." In the VVIP lounge, Ingra observes the proceedings with a hint of boredom. "Standard equipment like that is hardly worth our attention," she remarks, swirling the wine in her glass. Next, the auctioneer unveils a collection of common alchemical ingredients. "Up for bid, we have a bundle of rare herbs and minerals, essential for potion crafting." The bidding is tepid, with only a handful of alchemists showing interest. The lot is eventually sold for three thousand gold coins. Famir leans back in his chair, arms crossed. "Unless they present something truly exceptional, I doubt we''ll see any fervent bidding." As the auction progresses, Cedric Langston returns to the podium, his composed demeanor commanding the attention of the attendees. The grand hall of the Silvercrest Auction House, adorned with opulent chandeliers and intricate tapestries, falls into an expectant hush. "Esteemed guests," Cedric begins, his voice resonating through the chamber, "we now present a series of distinguished items consigned by influential figures from across the realm. Each of these offerings holds significant value and rarity." An attendant steps forward, presenting a velvet-lined tray upon which rests a collection of Tier 2 and tier 3 skill books and spell books, their covers embossed with arcane symbols and gilded lettering. Cedric gestures towards the display. "Our next items include a selection of Tier 2 and tier 3 skill and spell books, each imparting advanced techniques and knowledge to their wielder. Additionally, we have procured rare herbs sought after for their potent alchemical properties." In the VVIP lounge, Prince Asdri and his companions observe the proceedings with keen interest. Ingra, the mage, leans forward slightly, her eyes narrowing as she assesses the items. "Tier 2 and tier 3 tomes and rare herbs," she muses. "While not as coveted as the Tier 4 offerings, they still hold considerable value for those seeking to enhance their abilities." Cedric continues, "We shall commence with the first item: a Tier 2 Spell Book titled ''Arcane Surge.'' This tome enhances the caster''s magical output, allowing for more potent spellcasting. Bidding starts at fifteen thousand gold coins." A robed figure from the Magi Consortium raises a hand. "Fifteen thousand." A merchant from the southern isles quickly counters, "Seventeen thousand." An alchemist seated near the front joins in, "Eighteen thousand." Cedric''s gaze sweeps the room. "The bid stands at eighteen thousand. Do I hear twenty thousand?" The Magi Consortium representative lifts his paddle again. "Twenty thousand." The merchant from the southern isles hesitates, then nods. "Twenty-two thousand." The alchemist shakes his head, signaling his withdrawal. Cedric allows a brief pause before continuing. "Twenty-two thousand. Going once, going twice..." The Magi Consortium representative raises his paddle once more. "Twenty-five thousand." The merchant sighs, conceding defeat. "Twenty-five thousand. Sold to the Magi Consortium," Cedric declares, as the gavel falls. Polite applause follows as the attendant delivers the tome to its new owner. In the VVIP lounge, Alix observes the exchange with a contemplative expression. Cedric signaling the presentation of the next item. As the auction progresses, the atmosphere in the grand hall of the Silvercrest Auction House becomes increasingly electric. Attendees, ranging from noble dignitaries to esteemed collectors, sit in anticipation, their murmurs creating a soft hum throughout the room. "Esteemed guests," Cedric begins, his voice resonating with authority, "we now arrive at the moment you''ve all been awaiting. The forthcoming items are presented by none other than His Highness, Prince Asdri." A ripple of excitement courses through the audience. The prince''s reputation precedes him. Each of his appearances at the auction house brings forth items of unparalleled rarity and value, with the lowest tier being a formidable Tier 4 armor and some rare herbs. In the VVIP lounge, Prince Asdri observes the proceedings with a serene expression, his companions¡ªPyke, Ingra, Famir, and Valia¡ªseated alongside him. Ingra leans in slightly, her curiosity evident. "Captain," she inquires softly, "with the items we''ve put in this auction, I''m sure these people will fight for it like hungry beasts." Cedric''s gaze sweeping over the expectant audience. The grand hall of the Silvercrest Auction House falls silent, the air thick with anticipation.? "Ladies and gentlemen," Cedric announces, his voice resonant, "we now present an item of exceptional rarity and craftsmanship, consigned by His Highness, Prince Asdri." An attendant steps forward, carrying a polished ebony case adorned with intricate silver filigree. With deliberate care, he opens the case, revealing a suit of armor that gleams under the chandelier''s light. The armor''s surface shimmers with an otherworldly sheen, its design both elegant and formidable. "Behold," Cedric continues, "the Obsidian Aegis, a Tier 4 armor set forged in the legendary fires. This masterpiece offers unparalleled protection and agility, its enchantments woven by the most skilled artisans." A collective murmur spreads through the hall as attendees lean forward, eyes fixed on the magnificent armor. "We shall commence bidding at one hundred thousand gold coins," Cedric declares, his gaze scanning the room. A nobleman in the front row raises his paddle. "One hundred thousand." Almost instantly, a lady adorned in sapphire jewels counters, "One hundred and twenty thousand." Chapter 139 139: Weldea Continent From the VIP lounge, a voice interjects with calm authority, "One hundred and fifty thousand." All eyes turn toward Lord Mesvin, a renowned collector known for his discerning taste. Not to be outdone, Marquis Elowen, seated across, raises his paddle. "One hundred and seventy-five thousand." The bids escalate rapidly. "Two hundred thousand," calls a viscount from the eastern territories. "Two hundred and fifty thousand," responds a duchess, her eyes gleaming with determination. In the VVIP lounge, Ingra observes the fervor with a smirk. "They''re like vultures over carrion," she murmurs. Pyke leans back, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. "Captain," he murmurs, addressing Prince Asdri, "if we were to sell the Obsidian Aegis back in Weldea continent, it would scarcely fetch a hundred thousand gold coins. Yet here in your home, the nobles clamor over it, driving the price to astronomical heights." Ingra nods, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Indeed," she adds, "the scarcity of such artifacts in this continent inflates their value considerably. They perceive it as an unparalleled opportunity." Famir chuckles softly. "Their fervor is our gain," he remarks. "The allure of the unknown and the exotic compels them to part with their fortunes." On the auction floor, the bidding war reaches its climax. Lord Mesvin, his face flushed with determination, raises his paddle once more. "Four hundred and fifty thousand gold coins," he declares, his voice echoing through the hall. A collective gasp ripples through the audience. Marquis Elowen hesitates, his brow furrowed in contemplation. After a tense moment, he exhales sharply and lifts his paddle. "Five hundred thousand gold coins," he announces, his tone resolute. Cedric''s eyes sweep the room, gauging for further bids. The hall falls into a hushed silence, the weight of the moment palpable. After a measured pause, Cedric raises his gavel. "Five hundred thousand gold coins," he reiterates. "Going once... going twice..." He pauses, allowing the anticipation to build. With no further bids forthcoming, Cedric brings the gavel down with a decisive thud. "Sold to Marquis Elowen for five hundred thousand gold coins," he announces. A wave of applause cascades through the hall as the attendant carefully closes the ebony case containing the Obsidian Aegis. With deliberate steps, he delivers the prized artifact to its new owner. As the Obsidian Aegis is delivered to Marquis Elowen, the auction continues with a series of exceptional items, each fetching impressive sums. A Tier 4 enchanted longsword garners three hundred thousand gold coins, while a set of rare alchemical elixirs commands two hundred and fifty thousand. The momentum persists, with each subsequent item achieving prices well into the hundreds of thousands. In the VVIP lounge, Famir leans forward, his eyes wide with astonishment as he watches the bids escalate. He turns to Asdri, a broad grin spreading across his face. "Captain," Famir exclaims, his voice tinged with incredulity, "we''re rich now. I can''t believe we''re amassing this much gold from these auctions." Pyke chuckles softly, his gaze fixed on the auction floor below. "It''s remarkable, indeed," he agrees. "The demand here in the three kingdoms far surpasses that of Weldea. Our decision to bring these artifacts to this market has proven exceedingly profitable." Cedric Langston, ever the consummate auctioneer, steps forward with measured grace. His eyes, sharp and discerning, sweep over the assembled nobility and collectors. With a subtle nod to the attendants, he signals the unveiling of the night''s pie?ce de re?sistance. "Esteemed guests," Cedric begins, his voice resonant and commanding, "we have now arrived at the moment you have all been awaiting. Presented by none other than His Highness, Prince Asdri, we are honored to showcase an artifact of unparalleled craftsmanship and power." Two attendants, clad in immaculate attire, approach the center stage with deliberate steps. Between them, they carry an elongated ebony case, its surface adorned with intricate silver filigree that seems to dance under the ambient light. The weight of the moment is tangible; conversations cease, and the room is enveloped in an almost reverent silence. With a synchronized motion, the attendants place the case upon the velvet-draped podium and unlatch its ornate clasps. As the lid is gently lifted, the room collectively leans forward, breaths held in anticipation. Nestled within the plush interior lies the Tier 5 sword, Eclipse. Its blade, forged from a rare unknown metal, exudes a subtle luminescence, shifting between hues of midnight blue and silver as it catches the light. The hilt, wrapped in dragonhide-like material, is crowned with a pommel shaped like a crescent moon, embedded with a sapphire that mirrors the night sky. Cedric allows a moment for the audience to absorb the majesty of the weapon before continuing. "Behold, ''Eclipse,''" he announces, his tone imbued with admiration. "A Tier 5 sword, masterfully forged in the celestial forges. Legends speak of its blade being tempered in the heart of a fallen star, granting it unparalleled sharpness and resilience. The wielder of ''Eclipse'' is said to command the very shadows, making it a coveted artifact for warriors and collectors alike." A murmur of awe ripples through the hall, though none dare break the solemnity with idle chatter. "In recognition of its rarity and the masterful artistry involved in its creation," Cedric continues, "bidding for ''Eclipse'' will commence at one million gold coins." A moment of stillness ensues, the weight of the sum settling over the attendees. Then, from the left side of the hall, a paddle is raised with deliberate intent. "One million gold coins," a voice declares, belonging to Duke Lukius, known for his formidable armory and discerning taste. Almost immediately, a counteroffer emerges from the right. "One million two hundred thousand," bids Lady Rahni, her eyes gleaming with determination. The atmosphere becomes charged as paddles are raised in rapid succession. "One million five hundred thousand." "One million seven hundred thousand." "Two million," interjects Lord Heires, his voice cutting through the escalating bids with finality. A collective gasp resonates. Two million gold coins¡ªa sum that underscores the unparalleled value of "Eclipse." Cedric, maintaining his composure, scans the room for further bids. The attendees exchange glances, weighing the enormity of the amount. Chapter 140: A Tier 4 Sword With A Skill? The bidding war for "Eclipse" intensifies, with offers soaring beyond expectations. Duke Lukius raises his paddle confidently.? "Two million two hundred thousand gold coins," he declares.? Lady Rahni, undeterred, counters swiftly.? "Two million four hundred thousand."? The atmosphere in the auction hall is electric. Nobles and collectors exchange glances, the weight of the sums being offered evident on their faces. "Two million six hundred thousand." A hushed murmur ripples through the audience. The sums being discussed are staggering, a testament to the sword''s unparalleled craftsmanship. Marquis Elowen, who had previously secured the Obsidian Aegis, seems torn. His desire is evident, but he remains seated, perhaps mindful of his recent expenditure. Lady Rahni, sensing an opportunity, makes her move. "Two million eight hundred thousand," she announces, her voice steady. The room holds its collective breath. All eyes turn to Duke Lukius and Lord Heires, anticipating their responses. After a prolonged pause, during which the weight of the moment is palpable, Lord Heires raises his paddle for what seems to be the final time. "Three million gold coins." A collective gasp echoes through the hall. The threshold has been crossed; the magnitude of the bid underscores the sword''s legendary status. Cedric Langston, ever the consummate professional, allows the moment to settle before speaking. "Three million gold coins," he reiterates. "Are there any further bids?" The hall remains silent. Lady Rahni, after a brief hesitation, offers a graceful nod, conceding the contest. Cedric raises his gavel. "Three million gold coins, going once... going twice..." Just as the gavel begins its descent, a voice from the rear of the hall interrupts. "Three million five hundred thousand." Heads swivel to identify the late entrant. It''s the representative from Ordeya. The envoy, a distinguished figure clad in robes adorned with arcane symbols, stands with an air of quiet authority. Cedric, momentarily taken aback, regains his composure swiftly. "Three million five hundred thousand gold coins. An impressive bid." Lord Heires, clearly weighing his options, ultimately offers a respectful nod toward the Ordeyan representative, signaling his withdrawal from the contest. Cedric scans the room one final time. "Three million five hundred thousand gold coins, going once... going twice..." He pauses, ensuring no further bids are forthcoming. "Sold! To the esteemed representative from Ordeya." A round of applause ensues, acknowledging both the winner and the extraordinary artifact that has just changed hands. As the grand hall of the Silvercrest Auction House settles from the previous sale, Cedric composed demeanor commanding the room''s attention. The chandeliers cast a warm glow over the expectant faces of nobles, collectors, and esteemed guests. Cedric''s voice resonates through the hall. "Ladies and gentlemen, we now present a remarkable offering: a Tier 4 Skill Book and a Tier 4 Spell Book, consigned together as a single lot at the owner''s request. Bidding will commence at one million gold coins." In the VVIP lounge, Draya leans toward Alix, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Your Majesty, our items are finally being auction." Alix nods thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on the auction floor. "Indeed. I trust we''ll secure a sum exceeding five million." The auctioneer scans the room. "We open with one million gold coins. Do I have an opening bid?" A representative from the Kingdom of Ordeya raises his paddle. "One million gold coins." A merchant from the southern isles counters. "One million two hundred thousand." The bids escalate. "One million four hundred thousand," calls a noblewoman adorned in emeralds. "One million six hundred thousand," responds a delegate from the eastern territories. The Ordeyan representative raises his paddle once more. "Two million gold coins." A hush falls over the hall. Cedric allows the moment to linger before speaking. "Two million gold coins. Any further bids?" Silence prevails. "Two million gold coins, going once... going twice..." The gavel descends with a decisive thud. "Sold to the representative from Ordeya for two million gold coins," Cedric announces. Polite applause follows as the attendant delivers the prized tomes to their new owner. In the VVIP lounge, Draya turns to Alix, her expression a mix of satisfaction and curiosity. "Two million is a respectable sum, though below our expectations." Alix offers a contemplative smile. "Indeed. The market can be unpredictable. Nevertheless, it''s a substantial addition to our coffers." "Ladies and gentlemen," Cedric begins, his voice resonating through the grand hall, "we now present the last item of today''s auction." A ripple of excitement courses through the audience. Many had assumed the Tier 5 sword would conclude the event, and curiosity now dances in their eyes. Cedric continues, "This item is a Tier 4 sword." A collective pause grips the room. Whispers emerge, laced with confusion and skepticism. "Is this a jest?" a voice from the crowd challenges. "How can a Tier 4 sword hold more significance than a Tier 5?" Cedric offers a knowing smile, his eyes scanning the assembly. "I assure you, I am not jesting. This particular Tier 4 sword possesses a unique attribute: it is embedded with a skill. The wielder can access a Tier 4 ability without the need for prior training or mastery." The hall falls into a stunned silence. Such a phenomenon is unheard of, and the weight of Cedric''s words hangs heavily in the air. From the VVIP lounge, Prince Asdri leans forward, his interest piqued. "Is this claim accurate?" he inquires, his gaze fixed on Cedric. Cedric meets the prince''s eyes with unwavering confidence. "Indeed, Your Highness. Would you care to experience it firsthand?" A hush falls over the room as all eyes turn to Prince Asdri. After a brief moment of contemplation, he rises gracefully from his seat. "I accept," Asdri declares, his voice steady. Descending from the VVIP lounge, Asdri moves with the poise befitting his royal stature. The crowd parts respectfully as he approaches the podium where Cedric stands beside an ornate display case. Cedric gestures toward the case, and an attendant steps forward to unveil the sword. The weapon is a masterpiece of craftsmanship: its blade, forged from an unknown metal, gleams with a subtle, otherworldly light; intricate runes are etched along its length, pulsating faintly with latent energy. Asdri reaches out, his fingers closing around the hilt. The moment he makes contact, a surge of information floods his mind¡ªa comprehensive understanding of the embedded Tier 4 skill. The sensation is both exhilarating and overwhelming. He steadies himself, taking a measured breath. The knowledge settles, and he becomes acutely aware of the power now at his disposal. Turning to Cedric, Asdri nods appreciatively. "Your claims are substantiated," he acknowledges. Cedric inclines his head respectfully. "Thank you, Your Highness." Asdri addresses the assembly, his voice carrying the weight of his royal authority. "This sword is indeed extraordinary. The embedded skill integrates seamlessly, granting the wielder immediate proficiency." A ripple of astonishment spreads through the audience. The implications of such a weapon are profound, and many begin to realize they are witnessing a pivotal moment in innovation. Asdri returns the sword to its display, offering a final nod to Cedric before making his way back to the VVIP lounge. Cedric allows the audience a moment to absorb the demonstration before speaking. "With this firsthand validation, we shall commence the bidding for this unparalleled Tier 4 sword. The opening bid is set at one million gold coins." In the VVIP lounge, Prince Asdri strides back into the room, his expression contemplative. Pyke, his trusted companion, observes him keenly. "Captain," Pyke begins, his tone laced with curiosity, "does that sword truly possess a Tier 4 skill?" Asdri nods, a hint of bewilderment in his eyes. "Yes, it does. I can''t fathom how that''s possible." Famir, seated nearby, leans forward. "Perhaps we should meet with the owner to uncover its origins." On the auction floor, the bidding commences with fervor. "One million gold coins," calls a noble. "One million two hundred thousand," counters from a merchant. The tempo rises sharply. "One million four hundred thousand!" "One point six!" "Two million!" The crowd is feverish now, voices overlapping, hands rising rapidly. "Two million three hundred!" "Two million eight hundred!" Cedric''s gaze sweeps the hall, his expression calm amidst the storm. "Three million gold coins," he declares as the next paddle lifts, the number spoken by a velvet-clad viscount near the center. In the VVIP lounge, Draya watches with amusement. "They''re going mad for it," she murmurs. Alix leans forward slightly, eyes still locked on the floor. "Let them." On the auction floor, the nobles'' frenzy reaches new heights. The amounts become so staggering that aides are dispatched in haste¡ªrunners sprinting toward private vaults and carriages to fetch more funds. "Bring another two million from the vault!" a nobleman shouts to his retainer. Another bangs his hand on the armrest. "Have my accountant transfer from the third estate holdings¡ªnow!" "Four million!" a merchant lord from the Golden Coast calls out, his face flushed. "Five million," comes a calm yet cutting voice from the representative of Ordeya, raising his paddle with composed authority. A hush descends. The numbers are no longer just high¡ªthey are historic. Even Cedric pauses, his eyes flicking to the VVIP lounge. From within, Prince Asdri rises once more. No fanfare. No dramatic gesture. He simply lifts his paddle. "Six million gold coins," he says, voice steady, cool. Gasps ripple through the room. The Ordeyan representative exhales slowly, visibly shaken but not yielding. He raises his paddle again. "Six million five hundred thousand." The room is frozen, the tension so thick it feels like no one breathes. Back in the lounge, Pyke speaks low. "Captain, are you certain?" Asdri''s gaze never leaves the sword. "We must have it," he says quietly. Then, aloud, he lifts his paddle. "Seven million." The crowd explodes into murmurs. Nobles, merchants, and envoys all look at one another in disbelief. Some are shaking their heads, some clapping softly in admiration. Chapter 141: Earning Nine Million Gold Coins As the final applause fades and the last attendants begin to file out of the grand auction hall, a hush of reverence lingers in the air¡ªlike the afterglow of a storm. The chandeliers above still shimmer, catching the flicker of movement below as staff begin their careful cleanup. Cedric Langston, ever composed, descends from the auction platform and strides through the grand corridors of Silvercrest, a small lacquered case tucked securely under one arm. He passes through velvet-curtained halls and up to the VVIP lounge. Two guards bow and part without question. Inside, Alix stands near the tall arched window, bathed in soft amber light. To the others, he appears a young noble of calm presence, his posture refined, his expression unreadable. But beneath the illusion lies something far more monstrous. A predator draped in elegance. Draya sit next time him, her hands folded neatly in front of her, eyes watching Cedric''s approach with interest. Cedric bows deeply. "Lord Alix," he says with polished formality. "The final accounting, as promised." Alix turns, his golden eyes glinting faintly in the light. "You''ve moved quickly, Cedric. That''s commendable." Cedric offers a slight smile and places the case on the ornate table beside them. With a quiet click, he opens it to reveal several neat stacks of golden plaques and platinum slips¡ªhigh-denomination tokens used for ease of large transactions. "Nine million gold coins, your total earning from the three items sold," Cedric says smoothly. "Had it been a standard consignment, the auction house would claim ten percent. However¡ª" Alix lifts his hand and a flicker of prismatic light pulses in his palm. The Diamond Token shimmers into view, floating for a heartbeat before vanishing again. Cedric bows his head in acknowledgment. "Indeed. As a Diamond Token bearer, your commission fee is reduced to five percent. Thus, four hundred and fifty thousand has been retained by Silvercrest, and the remainder is now yours." Draya''s smile widen slightly at the sound of the final sum, but she says nothing, merely glancing at Alix to gauge his reaction. Alix closes the case with a soft click, his expression unreadable. "Excellent," he says quietly. "You''ve handled this with the efficiency I hoped for." Cedric folds his hands. "It was an honor to present such rare items. The sword, in particular, has created quite the stir. Prince Asdri''s purchase will no doubt echo through courtrooms and academies across the continent." "Let it echo," Alix murmurs. He turns to the window again, eyes casting over the city''s glowing skyline. "It''ll keep them guessing." Cedric hesitates, then speaks with mild curiosity, "Forgive me, but may I ask... will there be more?" Alix doesn''t look back. "When the time is right." The silence hangs, rich and unspoken. Cedric, sensing no further questions will be entertained, bows once more. "Then I shall take my leave. Thank you again, Lord Alix." Alix nods once, and with that, Cedric retreats, his footsteps soft against the thick carpet. The doors of the Silvercrest Auction House swing open, and Alix steps into the night. The soft hum of the city''s nightlife pulses through the main avenue, carriages rolling past, noble chatter drifting on the breeze. Draya follows a step behind, her eyes scanning casually but alert as ever. Alix walks with purpose, the lacquered case in one hand, his monstrous presence carefully veiled behind the elegant silhouette of a young noble. The cold night air brushes his skin¡ªnot that it matters. His senses stretch farther than the average human, and even before he fully descends the marble steps, he knows. They''re waiting. Standing near the edge of the plaza beneath a polished obsidian statue, Prince Asdri and his two companions¡ªPyke and Famir¡ªwatch the entrance closely. Alix doesn''t falter. He descends the final step and walks directly into their line of sight. Asdri''s body stiffens the moment he sees him. Asdri gaze is locked on Alix. A sudden pulse surges down his spine¡ªcold, sharp, primal. Danger. His sixth sense. The same feeling that saved his life more times than he can count. The feeling people mock as paranoia. But it has never failed him. And it screams now. His breath slows, the hairs on his arms rise. It''s him. He looks the same¡ªthose calm, unreadable cold eyes, the air of effortless control. And the woman beside him. Elegant. Silent. Watching everything. Asdri inhales slowly, steadying himself. The storm in his instincts quiets, though it never fully fades. He steps forward, offering a smile¡ªpolished, princely. "You carry yourself well," Asdri says, voice smooth now. "I realize we haven''t been properly introduced." Alix halts a short distance from them, his gaze level. "That''s true." Asdri extends a hand slightly, a diplomatic gesture. "I am Asdri, second prince of Valgros. And you are?" Alix gives the faintest nod in return. "Alix." Asdri waits a moment, then arches a brow with casual interest. "Alix... of which noble house?" Alix''s smile is faint, almost imperceptible. "Your Highness might not be familiar with my family. We''ve only recently been granted our title. It hasn''t been long enough to make an impression." Asdri chuckles softly, folding his arms behind his back. "Considering your family can produce items like this sword... I think it won''t be long at all." Alix offers a polite nod, saying nothing more. Asdri watches him for another moment, then gestures toward the main street. "It''s late, but I find myself with an appetite¡ªand a few too many questions. Would you care to join me for a meal, Lord Alix? I know a quiet place nearby. Private." Alix studies him. The prince hides his wariness well, but it''s there, pulsing beneath every word. He could refuse. But he''s curious. This prince felt the weight of his presence. And still extended a hand. Alix glances at Draya. She gives the slightest shrug¡ªneutral. He looks back at Asdri. "A meal sounds agreeable," Alix says. "Lead the way." Asdri smiles, genuine this time. "Excellent." Shortly after, they arrive at one of the capital''s most exclusive restaurants¡ªa towering structure of polished black marble and soft golden lighting. Chapter 142 142: The Road To Ordeya The staff ushers them through a private entrance, bypassing the grand dining hall entirely, and into a velvet-draped VIP room. The walls are soundproofed, the table carved from obsidian and accented with threads of silver. Warm light flickers in crystal sconces, casting a soft, intimate glow. Asdri takes the seat across from Alix, while Draya sit next to him, silent and watchful. Pyke and Famir are seated farther down the table, sipping discreetly from chilled glasses. The conversation begins light, flowing effortlessly over wine and delicately plated courses¡ªharmless topics of court rumors, minor skirmishes along distant borders, upcoming festivals, trade gossip. Alix answers with practiced ease, saying much without saying anything at all. He listens more than he speaks, yet every word he chooses adds a subtle weight to the air. Asdri speaks freely, but his eyes are always studying, measuring, feeling out the shape of the man in front of him. Eventually, the plates are cleared, and dessert is being served¡ªdelicate layers of citrus cream and honeyed pastry. Asdri sets down his fork and leans back slightly, folding his hands. His voice lowers a fraction. "Brother Alix," he says, casual, almost offhanded. "Have you ever thought about bringing your father into the palace?" Alix''s golden eyes lift slowly to meet his. Asdri smiles faintly. "I''d like him to meet my father. King Rewalt always takes interest in promising new houses¡ªespecially those that carry themselves with such... impact." There''s a pause. Alix tilts his head slightly. "That''s a bold offer." "A sincere one," Asdri replies. "A noble house rises not only by power, but by connection. If your father is anything like you, I think it would be a meeting worth arranging." Alix considers it, fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass. "I see," he says after a beat. He leans back, calm as ever. "I''ll consider it." "Good," Asdri nods. "It would be... interesting to see what sort of legacy your house intends to leave behind." Later that night, after parting ways with Prince Asdri and his companions, Alix and Draya arrive at their hotel¡ªa secluded, high-end estate perched at the edge of a small hill, overlooking the faint lights of the capital. The stone path leading to the entrance glows faintly under mana-infused lanterns. A cool breeze drifts through the night, brushing past the long coat draped over Alix''s shoulders. They walk side by side in silence, the only sound being the soft crunch of gravel beneath their feet. After a while, Alix speaks, his voice low. "What do you think of Asdri, Draya?" Draya glances at him, then looks forward again. "If the stories he shared tonight are true... then he is a good human. Brave. Loyal to his friends. Honest, at least on the surface." "But?" She exhales quietly. "But as we both know, Your Majesty, humans are not to be trusted. They smile with warmth, but that warmth hides daggers. When the time comes, they will betray you without hesitation... especially if power is involved." Alix walks a few more steps before replying, his expression unreadable. "You''re not wrong." He gazes up at the moon for a moment¡ªserene and pale, he thought. ''Even though I remember what it was like to be one... to feel like one... that sense is gone now. All of it.'' He places a hand on his chest, as if searching for something. ''Whatever I was before... it doesn''t exist anymore. Not in here.'' The next morning, the skies above the capital are painted in soft hues of silver and blue, with a gentle breeze carrying the distant sound of bells ringing from a temple tower. Alix steps out of the hotel courtyard, his long coat shifting slightly in the wind. Behind him, Draya walks in silence, a small travel case in one hand. They''re on their way out of the city gate. But just as they round the corner, Alix halts. Just ahead, standing near the fountain at the edge of the plaza, are five familiar figures¡ªcloaked in travel gear, each wearing personalized armor and armed for war. Asdri stands at the center, his crimson cape fluttering behind him, the gold-and-black trim of his armor gleaming in the morning sun. Pyke, Valia, Ingra, and Famir are to either side, adjusting the straps of their packs and blades. Asdri turns the moment he hears footsteps. His eyes light up in recognition. "Brother Alix," he calls with a grin. "Looks like you''re going somewhere." Alix stops, eyes narrowing slightly at the coincidence. "Well," he says evenly, "I could say the same about you all." Asdri chuckles, stepping forward. "We''re headed for the capital of Ordeya. Word is the situation with the monsters is worsening. My father wants a presence there¡ªsomeone to represent the crown and observe things firsthand." Alix gives a slow nod, his tone casual. "Is that so? I''m also going to the capital of Ordeya." There''s a brief silence. Then Asdri''s grin widens. "Perfect, then. We can travel together. Safety in numbers, right?" Alix lifts an eyebrow, almost amused. "I suppose that depends on what we encounter." Draya, standing quietly beside him, simply watches Asdri with a calm, unreadable expression. Asdri gestures behind him. "We''re leaving within the hour. Our carriages are waiting by the southern checkpoint. If you''re interested, we''ll make space." Alix glances once at Draya, then back to Asdri. "Very well," he says. "Let''s see how you travel, Prince." Asdri laughs, already turning toward the gate. "I promise, brother, we travel in style." Alix walks forward without another word, his eyes glinting faintly beneath the morning sun. The road to Ordeya just got more interesting. As they reach the southern checkpoint, Alix expects to see polished carriages, perhaps an escort of soldiers, banners flying high. But instead, he finds only the five of them¡ªAsdri, Pyke, Valia, Ingra, and Famir¡ªstanding by a single sleek wyvern-drawn cart, outfitted for rough terrain. No fanfare. No guards. Just the prince and his companions, dressed like seasoned adventurers. But their equipment tells a different story. Chapter 143 - 145: Blackfall City Their armor gleams with a quiet power. Runes etched in ancient languages pulse faintly beneath the surface. Each piece is fitted not just for combat, but for someone who''s worn it long enough for it to feel like skin. Pyke, the towering warrior, carries a massive greataxe across his back. Its blade is obsidian black, with jagged lightning trapped inside the metal like a storm waiting to break. Ingra, the mage, wears a flowing robe interlaced with living threads of crystal. Her staff, taller than her, hums softly in her grip¡ªan intricate lattice of bone and starlight. Famir, lean and relaxed, has a longbow strapped across his shoulder. The wood is pale and striated with golden lines that move like veins. His quiver glows with faintly marked arrows, each tip barbed with frost or fire. Valia, the healer, is clad in soft white armor with gold filigree, her staff curved like a crescent moon. A Tier 5 healer¡ªrare as any artifact. And Asdri, of course, looks like he''s stepped out of a forgotten legend. His armor bears the emblem of a dragon coiled around a rose, etched with symbols even Alix doesn''t recognize. Alix stops before them, eyes drifting across each of them one by one. "Interesting," he murmurs. "You''re all equipped very well." Pyke grins at the comment, reaching up to rest a hand on the hilt of his greataxe. "Well, its all thanks to our captain here, he is quite rich." Famir chuckles, tilting his head. "That''s right. Captain helped us greatly." Alix still studying the gleam of their weapons, the subtle hum of mana thrumming around them. "If you don''t mind me asking," he says slowly, "how did you all get Tier 5 equipment? They''re rare. Most nations would kill just to get their hands on a single piece." Asdri smiles. "I wish I could tell you," he says with a shrug. "Let''s just say... we come from far away. And where we come from, things are a little different." Alix watches him for a moment longer, but doesn''t press. He nods once. "Fair enough." Draya steps up behind him, whispering just loud enough for only him to hear. "He didn''t lie. But he didn''t tell the truth either." "I know," Alix murmurs back. The journey to Ordeya begins soon after. The wyvern-drawn cart glides smoothly over the well-worn roads, cutting through hills and forested stretches. Conversation drifts easily among the group. Asdri talks politics with Valia. Ingra reads quietly. Pyke snores. Famir hums a tune with his feet kicked up. Alix remains mostly silent, observing. By the third day, they pass through a narrow canyon trail¡ªand that''s when the trouble comes. A ragged group of bandits emerges from the rocks above, shouting threats and waving weapons. Their armor is rusted, their confidence bloated by numbers. At least two dozen of them block the path, thinking they''ve found easy prey. Alix doesn''t move. Neither does Asdri. But Pyke grins, stretching like a man waking from a nap. "Finally," he mutters, rolling his shoulders. "I was getting stiff." He leaps from the cart in a single motion, his greataxe swinging free with a thunderous crack. Famir is already gone, his bow drawn in one fluid motion. Arrows whistle like wind cutting glass. Each one finds a throat or an eye before the scream can form. Ingra remains seated, eyes glowing faintly as her staff lifts by itself. The temperature drops. The bandits'' feet freeze to the stone before they can flee, frost crawling up their legs. It''s over in less than a minute. The canyon is silent again, except for the wind. Pyke wipes blood from his axe and groans. "That was it? I barely got warm." "Poor planning on their part," Famir mutters, already retying his quiver. Ingra doesn''t even glance at the bodies. "Bandits are bold these days. Or just stupid." After another full day of travel, the horizon finally breaks to reveal the towering white walls of Ordeya''s capital, Blackfall City¡ªpristine stone etched with wards, banners fluttering high in the breeze. The roads grow wider, cleaner, more patrolled. The faint sound of city life hums beneath the wind. As they approach the main gate, a figure stands waiting. Marshal Zinov is a tall, broad-shouldered man with a stern face lined by old battle scars. His aura radiates experience and the weight of command. Yet, when he sees the arriving group, a rare warmth flickers in his expression. He steps forward as they come to a halt. "Welcome, Your Highness," Zinov says, voice steady as steel. Asdri dismounts from the cart, grinning wide. "Uncle. It''s good to see you doing well." Zinov chuckles dryly. "Good is generous. I almost died fighting that damned king of the monsters." Alix''s eyes narrow slightly. Zinov turns slightly, eyes locking with his. "If not for His Highness''s gift... I wouldn''t be standing here right now." He bows his head to Asdri. "So I owe you my life." The words hang in the air for a moment. Alix''s expression doesn''t change, but a glint sparks in his eyes. Asdri claps a hand on Zinov''s shoulder with a short laugh. "Still dramatic as ever, uncle." But Zinov only nods solemnly. "No exaggeration, Your Highness. The creature I fought... it was like standing before a god. I''ve faced monsters, armies, traitors¡ªnever something like that." He glances at Alix again, his gaze thoughtful. "That thing could''ve ended me a dozen times over. And then¡ªjust when it was about to¡ªI used the teleportation crystal you gave me." He pauses, shaking his head. "I was skeptical at first, but when I shattered the crystal, there was a flash of light. I was gone. Safe. Your artifact worked, Highness. Flawlessly." Zinov straightens. "Also... congratulations, Your Highness," he says, turning back to Asdri. "You''ve surpassed me. Not just in rank, but in strength." Asdri lifts a brow, mock surprised. "Already? I thought I still had a few duels left before I caught up." Zinov chuckles. "I may have age and experience, but strength? That belongs to your generation now." Chapter 144 146: Ashlight City Asdri steps aside and gestures to his companions with a sweeping motion, his voice carrying just enough pride to be felt, but not flaunted. "Uncle, allow me to introduce my companions," he says. "This is Pyke¡ªour frontline, and probably the only man I''ve seen break a tier 5 beast''s jaw with one swing." Pyke grunts a casual nod, tapping the handle of his massive greataxe. "Ingra, our mage. Don''t let her silence fool you¡ªshe''s turned more armies to ice than I care to count." Ingra inclines her head politely, the crystals in her robe catching the light. "Famir, our scout and archer. His arrows land before you even know he''s drawn." Famir winks, casually spinning one of his frost-tipped arrows between his fingers. "And Valia," Asdri finishes, voice softening just a little. "Our healer. She''s saved more lives than the rest of us have taken." Valia offers Zinov a gentle smile, her crescent staff resting lightly against her shoulder. Zinov''s gaze lingers on each of them in turn, reading the calm confidence in their eyes, the weight of power that hangs off their very presence. "You have such capable companions," he says slowly, almost with a note of awe. "All Tier 5... That''s not just rare. That''s unheard of." Asdri shrugs lightly. "We''ve been through a lot. Strength wasn''t optional." Zinov lets out a low breath, then turns his eyes once more toward Alix, the only one who hasn''t been introduced. "And this," Asdri says, walking over to place a hand on Alix''s shoulder, "is Alix. A friend¡ªsomeone I trust." Zinov studies Alix carefully, his expression unreadable. There''s respect in his eyes... and maybe a trace of curiosity. The kind of curiosity only a seasoned soldier feels when meeting someone he knows is more than they appear. "I see," Zinov says. "A friend of the prince is a friend of Ordeya. Welcome, Alix. And thank you for being a friend of his highness." Draya, standing quietly beside him, barely hides the amused smirk tugging at her lips. He has no idea, she thinks. The gates finally finish opening. The city of Ordeya sprawls ahead, alive with motion and sunlit grandeur. As the group steps through the gates and into the bustling heart of Ordeya, the rhythm of the city washes over them¡ªhorse hooves on cobblestone, market vendors calling out, banners flapping overhead. Alix walks a few steps before slowing. He glances toward Asdri. "Your Highness," he says, his voice calm but firm, "I''ll take my leave for now. Looks like you still have things to handle." Asdri stops, then turns to him with a sigh that''s half amusement, half exasperation. "I told you, just call me by my name. No need for formalities." Alix offers a faint nod. "Force of habit." "Well," Asdri says, reaching out to clasp Alix''s forearm briefly, "see you around then." When they''re far enough from the palace walls and the steady murmur of soldiers and courtiers fades behind them, Alix exhales a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "That prince is exhausting," he mutters under his breath. Draya, walking half a step behind him, smiles dryly. "I agree, Your Majesty. Ever since our journey from Valgros to Ordeya, he just won''t stop talking." Alix huffs a faint laugh, but his eyes remain sharp as they scan their surroundings. "What surprises me is that despite all that talking... I can''t get any real information out of him. Not a single useful detail." Draya glances sideways, her tone shifting as they round a quieter corner. "He''s either very good at deflecting... or very practiced at playing dumb." Alix''s expression hardens slightly. "Both, probably." Then, he shifts the topic. "Is everything ready?" Draya nods once. "Yes, Your Majesty. Vaelith is already waiting." "Good," Alix says. "Let''s go then." They turn down a narrower street, leaving behind the polished stone roads and tiled rooftops of the upper districts. The air grows thicker, the chatter rougher. The buildings here are closer together, older¡ªmany of them cracked or leaning. Laundry hangs from upper windows. Children dart through alleys, barefoot and quick. The scent of cooked grain, sweat, and old iron clings to the air. Ordeya''s poor quarter. Alix walks with purpose, blending into the crowd like he''s done this a thousand times. His cloak shifts slightly, covering the gleam of the artifact ring on his hand. Draya follows, hood raised, but her eyes remain alert. They pass a man slumped on the side of a stone step, muttering to himself. Two women argue over a sack of potatoes near a broken stall. Further ahead, a group of teenagers loiter beneath a crumbling archway, eyeing the pair¡ªbut one look from Alix, and they look away. Draya gestures subtly. "There," she says, nodding toward a narrow alley between two leaning buildings. Alix doesn''t hesitate. He turns, his boots tapping softly against the uneven cobblestone. The alley is damp, shaded from the midday sun, and it winds like a snake¡ªtwisting, quiet. At the end of the alley, they reach a small, worn-down house pressed between two leaning structures. Its door is unmarked, save for a faint scratch shaped like an X near the handle¡ªa signal. Alix pushes the door open without knocking. The air inside is dry and dim, lit only by the faint rays slipping through a cracked window and the soft glow of a single mana lantern resting on a table. The interior is stripped down¡ªold wooden floors, mismatched chairs, and a thin carpet over uneven boards. But it''s not the state of the place that draws the eye¡ªit''s the silhouette standing near the back. Vaelith. He drops to one knee the moment he sees Alix enter, bowing his head. "Your Majesty." Alix gives a short nod, stepping inside and closing the door behind them. "Everyone is ready?" "Yes, Your Majesty," Vaelith says, rising to his feet. "All units are in position. The Shadows have confirmed they are waiting for the signal. Also, Gorath is already in Ashlight City." Alix raises a brow slightly. "Is Gorath alone?" Vaelith nods once. "Yes. He insisted he could handle it." Chapter 145 - 147: Tier 6 Alix folds his arms, thinking for a moment. "Ashlight is the second strongest city in the Ordeya Kingdom... bold of him." Alix''s gaze shifts to the window, where the muffled sounds of Ordeya''s streets still bleed in. "The sudden appearance of Asdri was unexpected," he murmurs. "But since he''s here... I have the means to make him stay." Alix nods slowly. "This operation was meant to expose whatever the Ordeya Kingdom''s been hiding. But..." He trails off for a moment, letting the thought settle, then continues. "Knowing just how powerful Asdri''s party is¡ªthat''s a worthwhile trade." Alix''s hand lifts slightly, palm facing upward¡ªand with a subtle shimmer of light and distortion, an item materializes. It floats above his hand for a moment before solidifying: a black crystal orb, no larger than a clenched fist. Veins of deep crimson pulse faintly beneath its surface, like blood flowing through stone. The energy it emits is palpable¡ªheavy, ancient, almost feral. A Tier 6 summoning core. A relic of unspeakable value and devastating consequence. Alix holds it out without fanfare. Vaelith steps forward with the reverence of someone being handed a sacred weapon. He takes the orb carefully with both hands, the red glow painting thin shadows across his sharp features. "You already know what to do," Alix says, his voice calm but absolute. Vaelith meets his gaze, the barest flicker of anticipation in his eyes. "I do, Your Majesty." No further words are needed. Vaelith tucks the orb into a small void-pouch beneath his cloak, the fabric swallowing the light whole. Then, like mist touched by wind, he vanishes. No footsteps. No rustle of movement. Just silence¡ªand the faint ripple in the air where he stood. Night falls. Ordeya''s sky bleeds into violet and deep blue, the last strands of sunlight fading behind the rooftops. Lanterns flicker to life across the city, casting long shadows that stretch and shiver with every passing breeze. Market stalls begin to shutter, and voices quiet to a tired hum. The noble district glows with golden lights and laughter. Down in the poorer quarters, the streets are quieter, rougher, alive with the smells of roasted maize, smoke, and wet stone. Everything seems... normal. But in the heart of the city¡ªnear a crowded square lined with taverns and traders¡ªa sudden, deafening explosion tears through the night. BOOM. A ripple of crimson light pulses through the air, followed by an ear-splitting blast that shatters windows in a three-block radius. The ground trembles. Flames roar skyward from a collapsed section of the square, sending splinters of wood and shards of stone into the night sky. Screams erupt. People run, stumbling over one another, some bloodied, some too shocked to move. A child wails for her mother. A horse bolts through the smoke, dragging an empty cart. From the nearby barracks, Ordeya''s soldiers flood into the streets, steel drawn. "MOVE! Get out of the way!" "Make a path¡ªguards, with me!" A squad led by a grim-faced captain rushes toward the epicenter. As they break through the veil of smoke, the lead soldier skids to a halt¡ªeyes widening. "What... the hell..." The monster stands in the center of the destruction. It''s humanoid¡ªbut barely. Seven feet tall, its skin is a shifting shade of ash and obsidian, like living stone cracked by molten veins. Glowing red fissures pulse across its body with every slow breath. Its face is mostly featureless¡ªno eyes, no mouth¡ªjust a smooth, angular mask of hardened flesh, marked with a single vertical slit down the center, leaking faint steam. Its arms hang low, clawed and armored, with fingers too long, tipped in barbed black bone. Its presence is unnatural¡ªsuffocating. Not a beast. Not a demon. Something else. Something ancient. One of the soldiers stumbles backward, breath caught in his throat. "W-What is that!" The captain swears under his breath. "Get reinforcements¡ªnow! Sound the horns!" As if hearing them, the creature tilts its head slowly... and vanishes. It reappears an instant later, in the middle of the squad. A sickening crunch echoes through the street as its claw rips through a man''s chestplate like paper. Blood sprays across the cobblestones. The others barely react in time. Blades clash against its hide, sparking but doing nothing. "Form up! Hold the line!" But fear is already setting in. One soldier swings¡ªonly to be caught mid-strike and thrown through a wall. The creature lets out a sound¡ªnot a roar, but a low, grinding hum, like stone on stone, vibrating in their bones. From a rooftop, unseen in the shadows, Vaelith watches. Cloaked in shadow, eyes gleaming faintly red. His voice is low, whispered through a communication glyph. "The beast has been released." In a different part of the city, Alix leans against a rooftop balcony, arms crossed, gazing toward the rising smoke in the distance. Behind him, the city''s bells begin to ring in alarm. Draya steps up beside him. "It''s started." Alix exhales once, slow and calm. "Let''s see how the kingdom reacts to a threat they can''t handle." His eyes narrow. "And let''s see how the prince handles something he didn''t expect." The monster lifts its head, steam hissing from the slit in its face. Then¡ª It roars. The sound tears through the night like the sky itself is being ripped apart. A shockwave of pure force erupts from its core, bursting outward with invisible violence. The nearby soldiers are the first to fall. Their ears rupture. Blood spurts from noses, eyes, mouths. Some collapse instantly¡ªlimp and broken¡ªwhile others stumble, clutching their heads, weapons clattering to the ground. The very stone beneath them cracks, spiderweb fractures radiating out in all directions. The roar reverberates across the entire city. Windows shatter miles away. Birds take flight in panicked flocks. The bells of Ordeya¡ªonce ringing in alarm¡ªfall silent, as if the city itself holds its breath. A wave of oppressive aura follows in its wake. It blankets the city like a suffocating storm. Thick. Heavy. Alive. High in the noble district, Asdri''s eyes snap open, his hand flying instinctively to the hilt of his blade. Ingra stumbles slightly, grabbing the edge of a balcony railing. "What... is that?" Pyke mutters, knuckles tightening around his greataxe. "Something that shouldn''t be walking in this land." Famir''s voice is tight. "That was definitely a Tier 6 aura. We''re all too familiar with it." Valia gasps, eyes wide, sweat already beading her brow. "There are people dying down there." Asdri''s jaw clenches. He looks out across the rooftops toward the pulsing red light in the distance, where the roar came from. His instincts scream move. "We''re going," he says, his voice sharp. He flies, and the others follow suit. They take off, streaking through the air. As they get closer to the epicenter, the air becomes thicker, every breath laced with pressure, every heartbeat louder in their ears. Below them, the streets are chaos¡ªcivilians fleeing, buildings burning, and the mangled remains of soldiers strewn like ragdolls. "There!" Asdri shouts. The creature stands in the shattered square. But it''s no longer alone. Circles of black flame swirl around its feet¡ªsix of them¡ªlike portals cut into the earth. From each one, a smaller creature begins to emerge. Four feet tall. Same cracked obsidian flesh. Same glowing red lines. Their eyes¡ªunlike the original¡ªare wide and hungry. Their movements are erratic, twitching, like predators tasting the air. One lets out a shrill screech and bounds forward, leaping on a fleeing man and tearing his throat open in a single strike. "They''re spawning!" Ingra growls, forming a sigil in the air. "Focus the big one first!" Asdri commands. "Let the soldiers deal with the rest!" Asdri dives first, lightning trailing behind him in a crackling arc. His blade hums with electricity as he activates [Tier 4 ¨C Volt Edge], the weapon splitting the air as he descends like a thunderbolt. He strikes the creature''s shoulder¡ªBOOM¡ªa detonation of light and sound explodes on impact. The Tier 6 monster didn''t even take a single step back, its skin hissing. Its arm lashes out faster than expected¡ªunnatural speed. Asdri barely leans back, its claw grazing his chestplate, tearing through enchanted steel like parchment. Sparks fly. Ingra lands next, frost rising from her hands. She slams her palms into the stone, ice veins spreading outward¡ª[Tier 4 ¨C Glacial Constriction]. Spires of jagged ice erupt around the creature''s legs, trapping it mid-step. "NOW!" she shouts. "EARTH BREACH!" Pyke crashes in, axe raised overhead. Earth erupts in his wake as he unleashes [Tier 4 ¨C Seismic Rend]. The ground shatters beneath the creature''s feet, sending it lurching off-balance. He follows up immediately, swinging his axe infused with [Tier 5 ¨C Stonebreaker Might], slamming it against the monster''s torso. CRACK. Flesh splits¡ªpart of the chest caved in¡ªbut the creature doesn''t flinch. Instead, a pulse of crimson light ripples from the damage site, and the smaller spawn shriek in unison. "Be careful guys, this thing is very strong!" Valia warns from above, her eyes flaring gold as she casts [Tier 4 ¨C Sacred Link], connecting the party with regenerative tethers. A blast of red flame erupts from the monster''s body¡ª[Tier 5 Skill ¨C Infernal Pulse]¡ªburning the ice away, sending Pyke skidding backward in a scorched crater. Famir doesn''t wait. He''s already in the air, bow drawn to full tension, wind swirling around him in furious spirals. His eyes narrow, locking onto the beast''s exposed shoulder. "[Tier 4 ¨C Cyclone Shot]!" The arrow looses with a high-pitched whine, spinning violently as it slices through the smoke. The projectile pierces the creature''s side with a blast of wind pressure, kicking up debris in a wide radius. A dent. Nothing more. The creature turns its head slowly¡ªtoo slowly¡ªto look directly at Famir. That vertical slit in its face widens... just slightly. Like it''s smiling. Chapter 146 148: Across the Kingdom of Ordeya The monster blurs. One moment it stands, the next it''s just gone. "MOVE!" Asdri roars. A heartbeat later, the beast slams into Famir mid-air. Wind explodes outward in a shriek as the archer is hurled like a comet into a distant building. The impact sends stone and dust flying. Valia gasps, her tether flaring as it redirects healing energy into Famir''s broken frame. "I''ve got him!" she calls, floating quickly toward the wreckage. Asdri doesn''t hesitate. "[Tier 5 ¨C Stormbind Blade]!" Lightning dances along his sword, splitting into jagged arcs that form a glowing cage mid-air. He swings downward, sending a wave of chained thunderbolts that strike the monster''s limbs¡ªstunning it for a split second. "Ingra, now!" "[Tier 5 ¨C Cryo Lance]!" A massive spear of ice slams into the monster''s thigh, freezing flesh and shattering crystal in a burst of cold mist. The impact is solid¡ªdeep enough to stagger it. "Pyke!" Asdri barks. "On it!" He crashes down with a bellow, smashing his axe into the weakened joint with [Tier 5 ¨C Crushing Quake]. The monster''s leg buckles¡ª But doesn''t fall. Instead, its arm snaps up and grabs Pyke by the head. "Shit¡ª" The next moment, Pyke is slammed into the ground like a hammer to a spike. Dust geysers from the crater. The monster lifts him again¡ªabout to strike once more¡ª "[Tier 5 ¨C Windstep Volley]!" Three arrows slam into its elbow, bursting with razor-sharp gusts. The grip loosens, and Pyke rolls away, groaning. The monster turns again, fixated on Famir now returning to the air, blood trailing from his temple but bow still steady. While chaos grips the capital, a deeper plan unfolds. Across Ordeya''s territory¡ªnorth, west, and east¡ªcity after city erupts into sudden conflict. Black smoke rises into the sky from Edolde, the trade hub of the western coast. Screams echo through its alleys as armored monsters descend from the cliffs beyond the city''s outer wall. They strike with precision, some blades coated in a gleaming violet sheen¡ªpoison. Their eyes glow faintly blue, unblinking. "Reinforcements! We need reinforcements now!" a commander bellows atop the battlements, fending off two assailants with trembling arms. A communication crystal hums in his hand. "This is Captain Roen of Edolde! We are under attack by unknown hostiles¡ªhundreds, no, thousands! Requesting support from the main army!" After waiting for five minutes, which should be enough time for his message to arrive in the capital, and them giving a reply. But no message arrive. "What?!" Roen stares in disbelief as the line dies. Behind him, the gate bursts open with a thunderous boom, and the enemy floods in like a wave of shadow. The commander barely has time to shout before a massive creature¡ªeight feet tall with jagged, insectoid armor and serrated claws¡ªleaps into the courtyard. It lands with a crunch, sending cracks through the stone beneath its feet. Roen turns to face it, sword raised. "Hold the line!" The creature''s mouth splits open, revealing rows of needle-like teeth. It laughs. Then it lunges. ---- Far to the north, in the snowy city of Haldenridge, fires now bloom across the frost-covered rooftops. The local militia, clad in furs and light steel, are overwhelmed by serpentine figures slithering through the snowdrifts¡ªsilent, swift, merciless. "Don''t let them past the inner gate!" cries a young lieutenant, loosing a bolt from his crossbow. It bounces harmlessly off the scale-armored hide of a serpentine warrior. The monster doesn''t even blink before slicing the man''s arm clean off with a curved blade. Inside the city''s keep, panic reigns. "We need to contact the capital!" a noble cries, clutching a bloodied arm as he''s dragged behind the last defensive line. "We''ve already sent the request!" a mage snarls, sweat freezing to his brow. "They''re not answering!" "They left us to die," someone whispers. No one corrects them. ---- In the east, the port city of Havarg reels as massive arachne descend from rooftops, skittering across walls and dragging screaming soldiers into alleyways. Thick webbing covers whole streets, choking passageways, trapping reinforcements. A commander shouts, "Burn the webs! Clear a path!" But the fire only reveals more monsters lurking in the smoke. A Arachne twice the size of a horse emerges through the flames¡ªeyes glowing a bright, malevolent red. It hisses and launches a glob of venom that instantly melts through steel and flesh alike. Above it all, a flying monster with scaled wings glides over the burning harbor. The city''s harbor defenses crumble under the assault. Ships burn at anchor. The sea reflects fire and blood. Another request for help goes out. And another is ignored. ----- Back in the capital, within the army''s war chamber, panic grows louder than any command. "We''re losing contact with our other cities!" "The communications network is failing!" "Why isn''t the army responding!?" A general slams his fist against the table. "Because they''re all here¡ªfighting that thing!" Dozens of officers and strategists are gathered around a glowing map. Red markers blink faster and faster as they lose signals¡ªEdolde, Haldenridge, Velharn... and more. The tent''s heavy flaps part with a gust of wind as Marshal Medren strides in. The temperature seems to drop as soon as his boots hit the stone floor beneath the reinforced war tent. Silence falls. Every officer straightens and salutes instantly. "Marshal on deck!" Medren''s presence is overwhelming¡ªtall, cloaked in dark blue armor etched with golden inlays, and a sword resting against his back that only a handful alive have seen drawn. His eyes, cold and sharp, scan the chaos of the command tent. "The situation in the other cities?" His voice is quiet, yet it cuts through the air like steel. General Orsten steps forward, his gauntlets bloodstained, his voice tight. "Sir. We''ve... lost communication. Across all fronts. Edolde, Haldenridge, Velharn, and possibly more." "What?" Medren''s tone barely shifts, but those closest to him flinch. "The enemy might possess some kind of item or device that''s disrupting our message crystals. No replies are getting through¡ªevery attempt to connect is being severed." Medren''s jaw tightens. "So we''re blind." Orsten nods, grim. "Deaf and blind, sir. And outmaneuvered." The silence hangs again, thicker now. Medren''s hand clenches slowly by his side. For the first time in decades of battle, he feels useless. He had come to the capital with the army to protect the heart of the kingdom, yet now¡ªwhile their cities burn, while their people scream for help¡ªthey are locked here, pinned by a single monster. One whose very presence paralyzes him. He had stood against powerful tier 5 monsters. Against warslaughts and invading enemies. But this creature... this thing¡ªits aura alone crushes his will when he steps near it. As if the world itself grows heavier. Medren''s hand drifts to his chest, brushing aside his cloak. Beneath the armor, strapped to a chain against his skin, is a sealed case of silverwood and obsidian. An object the Queen herself had given him, long ago. ''Only if the Prince is about to lose, she had said. Only then.'' Medren closes his eyes. He remembers her gaze¡ªcalm, unshaken¡ªas she placed the case in his hands. ----- The monster''s roar splits the sky, a sound that scrapes against the inside of their skulls. Its limbs blur with every step¡ªblinking from place to place in bursts of unnatural speed. Even wounded, even frozen, even struck¡ªit refuses to slow. Asdri breathes heavily, lightning flickering across his shoulders as his sword crackles in his grip. Blood runs down his arm, but he doesn''t flinch. "This is getting out of hand," Famir pants from above, circling wide, arrows nocked and fingers trembling. "We can''t keep this up." "Then we stop holding back," Asdri growls. His voice rises. "Everyone¡ªwe use it now!" Ingra''s eyes widen. "The Link Skill?" "It''s time," Asdri says, steady and sure. "We use everything we''ve got." The others exchange looks¡ªexhausted, bloodied, but nodding. "Alright then," Pyke says with a grin, wiping blood from his jaw. "About damn time." Valia lifts her staff, eyes glowing softly. "Activating it now. Everyone¡ªbreathe together." She chants softly, her voice calm and rhythmic. "[Tier 5 ¨C Soulbind Convergence]." Golden threads of mana weave from her staff, snaking toward each of them. Asdri feels the warmth pierce his chest. The pain in his shoulder lessens, and suddenly he feels Pyke''s burn on his back¡ªIngra''s frozen numbness on his arm¡ªFamir''s cracked ribs in his side. And his own pain... dispersed, thinned out, shared. A ripple of power surges between them. A single pulse. Then silence. "[Tier 5 ¨C Stormheart Overdrive]!" he roars. Electricity erupts from his body like a thunderstorm made flesh. Lightning courses along the ground, splitting stone and air alike. He vanishes in a blink, reappearing mid-air above the monster, blade poised. "[Tier 5 ¨C Earthrend Smash]!" Pyke follows, slamming into the monster''s side with a seismic strike. Cracks shoot through the ground as his axe explodes with earthen force, throwing up debris and stunning the creature. "[Tier 5 ¨C Cryo Domain: Glacial Maw]!" Ingra chants, her hands raised high. An enormous dome of spiraling ice slams down, frost devouring the air, sealing the creature in jagged walls of crystal. It struggles¡ªbut the cold burns now. Deep. Real. It screeches. "[Tier 5 ¨C Skyfall Barrage]!" Famir unleashes a storm of arrows from above. Each arrow carries razor winds, slicing through the air like a hurricane of blades. They pierce flesh, wings, and armor¡ªripping chunks of the monster with each flash. Valia stands at the center, arms outstretched. "[Tier 5 ¨C Divine Veil]! Stay linked. I''ll keep the flow steady!" A shimmering shield expands outward from her, bolstering their armor, patching wounds even as they form, converting pain into fuel for their next strike. The monster roars again, but it''s different now. Angrier. Chapter 147 - 149: Link Skill It slams a claw into the ice and shatters part of it, surging forward with unnatural speed. Then¡ªa boom. Asdri is there. Lightning coils around his blade, his voice a thunderclap. "[Tier 5 ¨C Stormpiercer Descent]!" He crashes down, blade first, lightning turning the monster''s shriek into a crackling scream. It staggers back¡ª Only to take Pyke''s axe to the side. The monster retaliates. A pulse¡ªpure and devastating¡ªgathers at its core. Black veins ripple across its skin, and its remaining wings snap open, crackling with void energy. The temperature drops. The air trembles. Asdri''s eyes widen. "Everyone¡ªbrace!" "[Tier 5 ¨C Oblivion Flare]!" The world erupts. A beam of compressed energy, wide as a street and dark as the abyss, tears through the city. Buildings disintegrate. The earth itself fractures. A section of the capital¡ªhomes, towers, streets¡ªis gone in an instant, replaced by a glowing trench of ruin. Even the monster seems winded after that. Steam hisses from its body, its own flesh burning from the sheer backlash of its power. Asdri''s heart thunders. "We''re taking this to the skies. NOW!" With a surge of mana, his body arcs upward, thunder trailing behind like wings. The others follow immediately¡ªPyke with a burst of hardened earth beneath his boots, launching into the air; Ingra riding a rising column of frost; Famir lifted by the winds themselves; Valia floating on threads of light and aura. The monster snarls and follows¡ªits wings spread, skeletal but strong, beating once and lifting its massive body into the sky with horrifying grace. Up above the ruined streets, far above the city''s trembling citizens, the battlefield shifts. The sky itself becomes their arena. From below, soldiers and citizens stare upward in awe and horror. The heavens pulse with light¡ªred, blue, white, gold, green¡ªas spells and strikes ignite across the sky like a storm of gods. "Look at them..." a young soldier breathes, hand gripping a broken spear. His face is lit by a flickering yellow flash as lightning splits the clouds. "They''re amazing..." "It''s like the stars are at war," someone murmurs beside him. Above, the clash continues. The sky splits again. The monster hovers still, its ragged wings beating a slow rhythm as dark mist pours from its body. It bleeds heavily now¡ªchunks of its armor-like hide torn away, one eye ruined¡ªbut its power feels heavier. The air around it warps. Then it happens. The monster lifts its arms high, and its mouth opens¡ªnot in a roar, but in a low, guttural chant. A circle appears behind it. No¡ªa ring, made of runes, each one twisting and reshaping itself constantly, too alien to read. A second ring forms around it. Then a third. All of them spinning slowly. Asdri''s heart stops for a beat. His voice cuts through the link. "EVERYONE¡ªREADY YOUR DEFENSES. TIER 6 INCOMING!" Famir lets out a hiss. "You''re sure?!" "Yes," Asdri growls. "Move!" They scatter¡ªstill in the sky, but creating distance. The monster raises its hand. The sky dims even more, as though even the moon recoils from what''s about to come. "[Tier 6 ¨C Cataclysm Genesis]..." the voice is not one they''ve heard before. It echoes through their bones. Ancient. Final. Below, in the capital, a soldier drops to his knees. "What is that...? What is that?!" Valia slams her staff forward. "Link barriers! NOW!" "[Tier 5 ¨C Earthward Bastion]!" Pyke bellows, driving his hands forward. Huge walls of condensed stone erupt around them in midair, locking into place like puzzle pieces. "[Tier 5 ¨C Aether Prism Shell]!" Valia chants immediately after. Hexagonal plates of energy spiral outward, wrapping around the entire team like armor. "[Tier 5 ¨C Crystal Bloom Cage]!" Ingra adds, jagged petals of frozen light forming another barrier around the group. "[Tier 5 ¨C Gale Reversal Field]!" Famir roars. Winds spiral inward, meant to deflect and redirect energy away from the city below. Asdri raises his sword overhead. It pulses, overcharged with blue lightning. "[Tier 5 ¨C Thunderhold Core]!" The final layer forms¡ªlightning locking everything in place. Their five barriers snap together, each one built to withstand a strike that could flatten a city. And still, they all feel it. The Tier 6 skill is like a sun forming in the sky. The rings behind the monster spin faster¡ªthen collapse inward. A spear of pure annihilation forms. It''s not made of fire, ice, wind, or shadow¡ªbut of endings. "Brace!!" Asdri screams. The monster hurls it. The spear cuts through the sky¡ªsilent, slow at first¡ªthen faster than light. It strikes the combined barrier¡ª BOOM. Everything goes white. No color. No sound. Just force. The sky rips. A wave of distortion spreads across the city''s horizon like a sunrise. All the clouds for miles are gone. The barriers hold¡ªbarely. Each layer shatters in turn¡ªfirst the wind, then the crystal, then the stone. Pyke roars as blood sprays from his mouth. Famir is flung backward. Ingra collapses midair, caught only by Valia''s levitation spell. The lightning barrier cracks. Valia screams something¡ªbut it''s lost in the sound. Then silence. The spear finally burns out¡ªdispersing into fragments of dead magic, still hissing as they fall like black snow. The group floats, gasping, armor cracked, faces singed¡ªbut alive. The capital below still stands. Asdri breathes hard. His body shakes. "We took it..." he says, stunned. Pyke coughs blood, grinning weakly. "You''re welcome..." Ingra groans, "Please... never again..." Valia holds her hand out, light trembling. "The link is fading. We need to end this. Now." Famir reloads his quiver, hands trembling but steadying. "While it''s winded. While it''s drained." Asdri lifts his blade. Lightning returns. "One last push." His voice is steel. "We finish this thing¡ªtogether." They rise again¡ªburned, bloodied, broken. But not beaten. The link pulses again¡ªthin, fragile now¡ªbut still holding. Valia steadies herself in the air, her voice low and urgent. "One more time. Feed your strongest skills into the link. Don''t hold back." Asdri tightens his grip. "Channel them through me." "What?!" Ingra gasps, coughing ice from her lungs. "Asdri, no¡ªyour body can''t¡ª" "I know," he says, voice raw. "But it''s the only way. We channel everything. Through the link. Into one strike." Famir stares at him, eyes wide. "That''s suicide." "Then it better work," Asdri growls. A long pause. Then Pyke, battered and bleeding, nods. "I''m in." Valia closes her eyes. "Me too." "...Dammit," Famir mutters. "Fine. I''m in." "Don''t die," Ingra whispers. The link flares. Glowing threads of gold and silver tighten between them. Then the colors shift¡ªwhite, green, blue, crimson¡ªspells and essence merging into a single current. Valia speaks first. "[Tier 5 ¨C Radiant Nova Surge]!" Her light becomes a core of blinding fire that also heals Asdri, channeled instantly through the bond into Asdri''s chest. "[Tier 5 ¨C Windrazor Tempest]!" Famir adds, his storm compressing into a blade of air that threads through the link, whirling around the surge of light. "[Tier 5 ¨C Cryoheart Lance]!" Ingra''s voice cracks as frost pours from her arms, forming an elegant spear of ice and ancient cold, fusing with the others. "[Tier 5 ¨C Stonebreaker Might]!" Pyke roars, and the ground far below rumbles in answer. His force erupts upward, raw and crushing, entering the flow like a heartbeat. Asdri''s body convulses. He screams¡ªbut doesn''t stop. The energy tears through him, rips into him, changes him. His skin splits at the seams of his armor. Blood runs from his eyes, his nose, his mouth. His blade cracks¡ªnot shatters¡ªchanges, glowing like it''s made of living mana. His voice is barely human. "I... can feel it..." Valia''s voice reaches him¡ªcalm, steady. "Say the words, Asdri." He raises his sword. Everything gathers. His body trembles, twitching under the weight of something beyond what a tier 5 should carry. He speaks the name, through clenched teeth and raw pain. "[Tier 5 Link Fusion¡ªJudgement Arc: Heavenbreaker]!" The sky goes still. Sound disappears. Then¡ª BOOOOOOM. A pillar of light and storm explodes downward. It''s not a beam. It''s a verdict. Lightning twisted with wind, stone, frost, divine light. It carves the heavens in two. The monster barely lifts its head before the strike hits. The blast is instantaneous. It doesn''t pierce the monster. It erases part of it. Wings¡ªgone. A whole limb¡ªdisintegrated. The creature screams, flailing, staggering mid-air as parts of it boil away into ash. Its body convulses, black fluid evaporating before it hits the ground. Asdri drops. His blade falls first¡ªstill glowing. Then his body plummets like a dead star, sparks trailing behind. "ASDRI!" Valia screams. Famir dives. Ingra follows. Pyke launches downward with a curse on his lips. Valia reaches him first¡ªcatching his fall in a net of golden light, slowing him just before the final impact. His eyes are half-closed. Blood pours from his ears. "I... can''t hear you..." he whispers, smile flickering. "Did we win?" The monster below, writhing and broken, lets out one last howl¡ª And explodes in a wave of black mist, defeated. The link finally snaps. Silence. Then the sky breaks open again¡ªnot with thunder, but with cheers. From the ground, from the towers, from every street still standing. They saw it. They saw gods fight in the sky. And they saw one of them fall¡ªnot in defeat, but in victory. From a distant tower balcony, Alix stands quietly, arms crossed over his chest. Beside him, Draya watches with wide eyes, the golden afterglow reflecting in her gaze. "...Your Majesty," she murmurs, her voice laced with genuine awe. "Those humans... they''re quite impressive. To bring down a Tier 6 summon with nothing but Tier 5 strength..." She shakes her head, silver strands catching the light. "And that skill. It''s my first time seeing anything like it." Alix doesn''t answer at first. His gaze lingers on the sky¡ªon the space where the heavens had been split in two. Then, softly, he replies, "It''s called a link skill." Chapter 148 150: Turning Ashlight City Into A Fortress Draya turns toward him, brow arched. "A link skill?" "A rare one," Alix says, voice calm but thoughtful. "I have a few, myself. But even among skilled warriors, they''re uncommon." His eyes narrow slightly. "They require more than just power. They need... connection." Draya tilts her head. "Like trust?" "Exactly." He exhales through his nose and thought. "In the game... only players could use them. And even then, only if they were close¡ªdeeply connected. The stronger the bond, the stronger the link skill." ------ The once-proud city of Ashlight smolders under the midday sun. Smoke curls from shattered towers. Walls that stood for centuries now lie in pieces, rubble scattered across wide courtyards like broken bones. The streets are eerily silent¡ªno screams, no swords, only the soft crackle of embers and the distant sobs of displaced civilians huddled behind scorched columns. And in the middle of it all stands Gorath. Ten meters tall, skin like darkened stone etched with crimson runes, the giant surveys the wreckage with a faint scowl etched into his massive features. One foot is planted firmly atop what remains of the southern gate¡ªflattened stone and bent steel curling beneath his weight. He scratches the side of his head, grumbling, "I think I overdid things." His voice echoes through the broken city like rolling thunder. A gust of wind carries ash across his boots. Beneath him, soldiers, survivors, officials¡ªmove like ants, avoiding his gaze. Gorath sighs, glancing down at the half-collapsed council hall that once stood as the city''s heart. A jagged crack runs straight through its roof, and part of its central dome lies several blocks away, embedded in a bakery. Gorath winces slightly at the sight. "Yeah... Thano is going to throw a fit." He crouches slightly, and picks up what looks like the twisted remains of a street lamp. He squints at it, then sighs and tosses it behind him, where it lands with a loud clang that startles a group of soldiers trying to rebuild a barricade. "Sorry," he calls halfheartedly. "Didn''t see you there." One of the younger guards flinches but nods rapidly. "N-No problem, sir!" Gorath straightens again with a loud creak of strained leather straps and groans. His back cracks. "Thano''s not even here, and I can already hear him lecturing me. ''Gorath, you broke the east wall again. Gorath, why is the aqueduct in three pieces? Gorath, why is there a smithy embedded in the clocktower?''" He gestures broadly to the devastation with both massive hands. "This is why I don''t do city fights. Give me open fields, mountains¡ªhell, the sea. But cities? Too cramped. No space to swing properly." ------ Back on the balcony, the warm glow of divine magic fading from the distant sky, Alix remains still. The wind pulls gently at his coat, brushing strands of his dark hair across his face. Draya doesn''t speak. She knows that look¡ªthe calculating one. The way his eyes narrow just slightly, as if he''s already several steps ahead of whatever''s to come. Suddenly, a shimmer distorts the air beside him. Vaelith materializes in a swirl of shadow and violet sparks, kneeling instantly. "Your Majesty," she says, voice crisp and steady. "The operation is a success. Our army has taken seven cities across Ordeya. That''s... nearly half of their total holdings." Alix gives a slow nod, lips pressing into a thin line. "Good. That''s progress." Vaelith rises smoothly. "Orders?" "For now, we need to integrate those territories," Alix says, voice even. "Send word to Varkos and Gorath. I want them to draw up a defensive structure for each city¡ªimmediately. If Ordeya retaliates, we''ll be ready." "As you wish," she replies with a slight bow. Then her tone shifts. "Also... Gorath destroyed Ashlight City." There''s a brief pause. Alix sighs. "Of course he did." Draya winces softly. "That poor city..." "I expected it already," Alix mutters, folding his arms. "He doesn''t know how to hold back. Though Thano won''t be happy about it." A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. "He''ll probably send ten reports filled with complaints and diagrams. Again." He turns, eyes locking on the mountains far beyond the horizon. Alix''s gaze sharpens as he watches the faint trails of smoke drifting upward from Ashlight''s remains. "If the Valgros Kingdom wants to send reinforcements to Ordeya," he says quietly, "they have no choice but to go through Ashlight City." Draya glances at him, thoughtful. "And if they don''t?" "They''ll be forced to reroute," Alix replies, his voice calm but absolute. "And that means traveling around the Scorching Valleys or through the Fenrath Peaks. Either way... it''ll take them months. Maybe longer." Vaelith crosses her arms, nodding slightly. "That gives us a significant edge." "It gives us control," Alix says. "Ashlight isn''t just a ruin. It''s a choke point. A gateway. And now, it''s ours." Draya looks out toward the smoke again, then back at Alix. "You''re going to fortify it into something they can''t ignore." Alix''s eyes narrow, a cold fire burning behind them. "Exactly. When Valgros finally decides to fully intervene... they''ll find a fortress, not a city. And by the time they realize what we''ve built¡ª" "They''ll already be too late," Vaelith finishes, a smirk tugging at her lips. Alix doesn''t smile, but his silence confirms it. He looks down at the landscape once more, at the path that winds from the edge of the ruined city into the heart of Ordeya. "This is where the real war begins." ---- The heavy scent of incense barely masks the underlying staleness of smoke and sweat. Golden banners hang limp in the thick air. Sunlight filters through shattered stained-glass windows, scattering color across the marble floor¡ªbut there''s no warmth to it. Only fractured beauty. Queen Seraphina sits tall on her throne, back rigid, hands clasped tight on the lion-carved armrests. Her silver armor glints in the muted light, though cracks line its edges. A thin smear of blood mars the side of her cheek¡ªdried, unnoticed, or ignored. Before her stands Medren, his posture stiff, eyes lowered in grim respect. "They''ve taken seven cities, Your Majesty," he says quietly. "In a single coordinated strike. Our outposts barely had time to send warnings before communications went dark." Seraphina''s voice is steady, but low. "Which cities?" Medren hesitates for only a breath before listing them. "Haldenridge, Windel, Dorne, Edolde, Havarg, Cargos... and Ashlight." At the last name, her jaw tightens. "Ashlight has fallen?" He nods, regret etched into his features. "The report says there was only one huge monster that conquered the city. The city''s defenses held for less than an hour. Then... it was gone. Flattened." Seraphina closes her eyes for a moment. When she opens them again, her gaze is sharper. "What about the capital? What is the damage?" Medren draws a slow breath. "We held the capital, but it came at a cost. A thousand soldiers died fighting off that monster''s underlings. And the destruction..." He glances at the cracked pillars lining the chamber. "Entire districts are in ruins. Homes, temples, marketplaces¡ªgone. Fires burned through the western quarter. We''re still pulling bodies out of the rubble." Seraphina''s fingers curl around the throne''s armrests. Her voice drops to a near-whisper. "They invaded our land. Took our cities. Burned our streets. And now they''re fortifying Ashlight..." Medren nods solemnly. "They''re preparing for more." Seraphina rises from her throne, the train of her dark crimson gown sweeping behind her like flowing blood. Her voice is soft, but filled with steel. "Then so are we. Call the council. Summon what remains of the eastern legions. And send a raven to Valgros." ----- The next day. The sky over Ashlight is cloudless, but the air still carries the scent of soot and ash. As Alix''s carriage descends from the sky¡ªits sleek frame wreathed in slow-rotating sigils of flight¡ªthe ruined city lies below like a wounded beast. Scorch marks still blacken the earth. Shattered stone and scorched timber form a graveyard of what once was. Gorath waits at the central courtyard, arms folded, massive frame casting a long shadow over the cracked plaza. The moment the carriage lands with a soft hum and a breeze kicks up dust, Gorath steps forward, thumping a closed fist to his chest. "Your Majesty." Alix steps out, long coat trailing behind him, Draya descending right behind. His gaze sweeps the devastation¡ªquiet, unreadable. Before he can speak, another voice cuts in. "Welcome, Your Majesty." Thano approaches, sleeves rolled up, smudges of ink and charcoal across his gloves. Behind him, a small army of engineers, mages, and workers scurry about¡ªmeasuring, sketching, arguing over elevations. Thano stops a few feet away, bows quickly, and gestures broadly at the destruction. "The city is... destroyed right now." He throws a meaningful glance at Gorath. "Because of someone." Gorath shifts slightly, scratching his neck. "I said I overdid it. You don''t have to keep saying it." "You embedded a whole church into a warehouse," Thano mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. "How is that even possible?" Alix said. "Did it collapse?" "No," Gorath answers proudly. "It''s actually standing better than before." Alix lets the corner of his mouth twitch before turning fully to Thano. "The damage is done. What matters now is what comes next." Thano straightens, more composed now. "The blueprints are almost finalized. We''ll finish drafting the complete renovation plan in two weeks. After that¡ª" he glances at his team "¡ªAshlight will begin its transformation." Alix''s gaze sharpens. "Into a fortress." Thano nods. "A fortress-city. Reinforced walls. Defensive enchantments. Underground storage. Multi-layered barriers, ballistic towers, and three escape routes built into the terrain. It won''t just hold the line¡ªit''ll break anyone who tries to cross it." Chapter 149 - 151: Summoning Legions (part 1) Later that day. Alix doesn''t return to Blackfall. Instead, his carriage turns north, streaking across the sky toward the heart of his kingdom¡ªNoctaris City. The capital rises like obsidian flame from the land, dark spires crowned with glimmering wards, cascading waterfalls flowing from floating islands, and banners bearing Alix''s crest billowing in the wind. At its core, the grand palace looms, its towers scraping the clouds. Hours later, the palace gates open. Servants bow low, but Alix says nothing. He moves through the halls in silence, each step echoing against polished stone and golden fixtures. Draya follows for a time, but at the throne room''s entrance, Alix waves her off. She stops, bows quietly, and says, "I''ll have tea ready when you''re done, Your Majesty." The massive doors shut behind him. He stands alone in the vast throne chamber. Sunlight filters through the skylight above the throne, casting long, broken shadows along the floor. And then¡ª shimmer A transparent screen floats into view, golden text flickering faintly across its surface. His status. His wealth. His resources. Alix leans against the throne and narrows his eyes as numbers scroll into focus. Gold: 12,000,000 ¡ú 9,000,000 Three million already gone. Given to Thano for Ashlight''s reconstruction. He exhales through his nose. Slowly, he lowers himself into the throne, elbows resting on the armrests, hands steepled. "Revive the army..." he murmurs. "Or revive my subordinates." His voice echoes quietly in the empty chamber. Alix exhales and shifts his gaze. "Let''s see what I''m working with." He flicks his fingers across the air, and the transparent interface shifts. Lines of gold-etched text scroll downward. A new tab pulses faintly¡ª[Legion Interference]. He taps it. The air grows heavier as the [Legion Interference] tab opens fully, the floating screen reshaping into a wide panel of glowing banners, ancient crests, and dormant sigils. Each insignia pulses faintly¡ªremnants of loyalty bound in blood, magic, and bone. Alix straightens in his throne, his gaze steady. "Show me their states." The interface responds. [Legion Overview ¡ª Status: Dormant] Revival Options Available: 5 Funds Remaining: 9,000,000 Gold One by one, the banners unfurl. [The Ashen Fangs] Crest: A cracked dragon''s tooth wreathed in smoke and flame. "They were the destroyers," Alix murmurs. "Draconics, wyvernspawn, and molten hounds." The Ashen Fangs were a legion of elemental warbeasts¡ªhalf-born from dragonkin bloodlines, firebound entities, and volcanic creatures. Their purpose: pure offense. Cities fell in hours when the Ashen Fangs flew. Revival Cost per Soldier: 100,000 gold Max Possible Revives: 90 soldiers Alix frowns. "Too few. Even ninety of them could destroy a fortress... but not hold it." [The Gravehollow Brood] Crest: A black centipede coiled around a skeletal ribcage. "Burrowers," he says. "Undead insects, tomb beasts, hive spawn." The Brood specialized in ambushes and overwhelming numbers. They struck from underground, from ruin, from silence. The Gravehollow Brood didn''t march¡ªthey infested. Revival Cost per Soldier: 75,000 gold Max Possible Revives: 120 soldiers [The Ironclad Vanguard] Crest: A steel-plated shield with a clenched fist at its center. "Living armor," Alix mutters. "Steelborn juggernauts, ironblood orcs, forgebound." The Ironclad Vanguard were humanoids fused with metal¡ªwalking fortresses with reinforced limbs and steel-carved skin. Their discipline and defense were unmatched, pushing through enemy lines with crushing force. Revival Cost per Soldier: 60,000 gold Max Possible Revives: 150 soldiers [The Emberfang Legion] Crest: A roaring flame entwined with a jagged fang. "Fireborn," Alix says. "Ifrit, ember devils, ashborn berserkers." The Emberfang Legion was a force of humanoid flame-wielders. They wielded molten weapons, cloaked in living fire, their strikes scorching and their presence smoldering. They thrived in chaos, overwhelming enemies with relentless, fiery assaults. Revival Cost per Soldier: 40,000 gold Max Possible Revives: 225 soldiers [The Bonepiercers] Crest: A trident through a cracked skull, draped in faded crimson. Alix''s gaze lingers. "My first legion." The Bonepiercers were skeletal brutes, wights, carrion ogres, and marrow hounds¡ªundying, unyielding, unrelenting. They didn''t break formation. They didn''t panic. They simply obeyed. Revival Cost per Soldier: 2000 gold Max Possible Revives: 4,500 soldiers "Loyal to the end," he whispers. "And still the only ones I can revive in great numbers." The system chimes softly, offering a final screen: [You may revive one full legion or divide resources across multiple. Choose carefully. Remaining funds: 9,000,000 gold.] Alix leans back, fingers steepled. "If I take ninety Ashen Fangs... he doubt that the high level ones that will get revive." His fingers tap against the throne arm. "If I take Bonepiercers... ten thousand strong. Not flashy. But they''ll be enough for Valgros kingdom." A long pause. Then¡ªhe nods. ---- Alix stands at the edge of the Legion Revival Grounds, a secluded area within Noctaris City known only to him and a select few. The air is thick with the scent of ancient incense and the faint hum of latent magic. Around him, banners of his legions flutter in the breeze, each representing a formidable force he once commanded. The ground beneath his feet is etched with runes, glowing faintly, marking the sacred space where his legions can be resurrected. He walks with purpose, his eyes scanning the banners until they settle on the one he seeks: The Bonepiercers. The banner depicts a cracked skull pierced by a trident, draped in faded crimson. Memories of battles fought and victories won flood his mind. These were his first legion, loyal and unyielding. Approaching the banner, Alix raises his hand, and the air shifts. A translucent interface materializes before him, displaying the revival options for the Bonepiercers. Legion Revival: Bonepiercers Revival Cost per Soldier: 2000 gold Max Possible Revives: 4,500 soldiers Funds Remaining: 9,000,000 gold Alix''s gaze hardens. With his remaining funds, he can revive the full strength of the Bonepiercers. He doesn''t hesitate. The decision is made. He speaks the command aloud, his voice steady and commanding. Alix: "Revive the Bonepiercers." The ground trembles as the magic takes hold. From the earth, skeletal warriors begin to emerge, their bones clattering as they form ranks. Alongside them, wights clad in tattered armor, carrion ogres with hollow eyes, and marrow hounds with glowing fangs rise from the soil. They stand in perfect formation, awaiting their master''s command. Alix surveys the assembled legion, a sense of pride swelling within him. These were his first soldiers, his most loyal. They had fought beside him in countless battles, and now, they would stand with him once more. He raises his hand, and the legion bows in unison. "Rise, my Bonepiercers. The kingdom calls upon you once again." With a unified roar, the legion springs to life, ready to serve their master in the battles to come. The ground trembles as the last of the Bonepiercers rise, their skeletal forms adorned with ancient armor and weapons. Each soldier stands at attention, their hollow eyes glowing with a faint blue light. Alix surveys the legion, noting the uniformity and discipline that has not diminished over time. All are Tier 4, as expected. He had forged this legion during his time as a Tier 6, and while the most powerful among them remain dormant, the strength of these warriors is undeniable. He turns, the banner of the Bonepiercers unfurling behind him, and begins the march out of the revival grounds. The legion follows in perfect formation, their footsteps synchronized, creating a rhythmic cadence that echoes through the city streets. As they enter the heart of Noctaris City, the soldiers pause in their activities, eyes widening at the sight before them. The Bonepiercers, one of the legendary legions of his majesty. A soldier, just got out of training, nudges his comrade. "Is that... the Bonepiercers?" he whispers, awe evident in his voice. His companion nods slowly, eyes fixed on the marching legion. "I heard stories about them," he murmurs. "Never thought I''d see them with my own eyes." As the Bonepiercers march through the streets of Noctaris City, their disciplined formation draw awe and reverence from the onlookers. Many of the soldiers, originating from other cities within Alix''s kingdom in the game, have only heard tales of these legendary warriors. Now, witnessing them firsthand, the atmosphere is thick with a mix of fear and admiration. Alix steps out of the carriage, his boots clicking softly against the marble steps. The Bonepiercers remain in formation, a silent and imposing presence behind him. As his gaze scans the scene, his attention is drawn to General Gorath standing at the top of the steps, waiting with his customary stoicism. The general, clad in his dark steel armor, stands like a monument to strength and discipline. As Alix''s gaze meets his, Gorath immediately kneels, lowering his head in deep respect. "Your Majesty," Gorath says, his voice firm but laced with reverence. Alix''s eyes flicker toward the formation of Bonepiercers standing behind him. Gorath rises from his kneel, his eyes scanning the ranks of the Bonepiercers behind Alix. The warriors stand motionless, their hollow eyes glowing faintly, a testament to their unwavering loyalty. Gorath said, "Congratulations on reviving the Bonepiercers legion, Your Majesty." Alix nodded, his gaze steady. "The reason I summoned you is to entrust you with their command. I want you to lead the Bonepiercers and march into the Valgros Kingdom." Gorath''s expression remains stoic, but a glint of determination flickers in his eyes. "It will be done, your majesty. The Bonepiercers will bring Valgros to its knees." "Good. Prepare them for departure." As Gorath turns to relay the orders, the Bonepiercers respond in unison, their formation shifting with mechanical precision. The soldiers watch in awe as the legendary legion, prepares to march once more under the command of their unwavering king. Chapter 150 - 152: Bonepiercers Legion (part 2) The wind whispers through the crenellations of the watchtower, carrying with it the distant howls of creatures unknown. Two soldiers, clad in the Valgros Kingdom''s midnight-blue armor, stand vigil under the pale glow of the twin moons. Soldier 1, a young man with eyes that dart nervously across the horizon, breaks the silence. "Old man, I heard that the monsters have already conquered half of Ordeya''s cities." Soldier 2, older and bearing the scars of past battles, nods solemnly. "I know. That''s why I''m doing everything I can to get stationed elsewhere. After all, Tirion is one of the two cities they''ll likely attack first." The younger soldier swallows hard, gripping his spear tighter. "So it''s a fifty-fifty chance." Soldier 2 offers a grim smile. "Pretty much." Suddenly, the younger soldier squints into the darkness. "Wait... do you see that?" He points toward the horizon, where a faint glimmer of metal catches the moonlight. "Is that... a skeleton in armor?" "No," he whispers, his voice tinged with disbelief. "It''s not just a skeleton." The older soldier steps forward, his eyes narrowing. He activates his [Nightwatcher''s Sight], a skill that enhances his vision in darkness and over long distances. The world sharpens, revealing a chilling sight. "No," he whispers, his voice tinged with disbelief. "It''s not just a skeleton." "By the gods..." He sees a legion emerging from the mist¡ªskeletal warriors clad in ancient armor, wights with glowing eyes, towering carrion ogres, and marrow hounds with fangs dripping ethereal ichor. "It''s not just a skeleton. There are... things I''ve never seen before. Monsters... an entire army of them." The younger soldier''s face pales. "What do we do?" The older soldier grips his weapon tightly, his voice steady. Soldier 2: "We sound the alarm. Tirion must be ready." As the horn blares into the night, the undead legion continues its march, unwavering and silent. The alarm bell tolls through the pre-dawn hush of Tirion, its deep clang reverberating off stone walls and tiled roofs. Lanterns flare to life across the barracks and guild halls, casting flickering light on the hurried movements of soldiers and adventurers alike. Boots thud against cobblestones, armor clinks, and the sharp commands of officers cut through the chaos. In the central square, Captain Kedora stands atop a hastily assembled platform, his voice booming over the assembling crowd. "Form ranks! Mages to the rear, archers on the flanks! Prepare for a defensive formation!" Among the gathering defenders, whispers ripple through the ranks as eyes turn toward the horizon. This time a dense fog covers the Bonepiercers, unnatural in its speed and thickness, obscuring the landscape beyond the city''s outer walls. "What''s causing that fog? It''s not natural..." Captain Kedora strides toward the two soldiers who first sounded the alarm, his expression stern. "Where''s the enemy?" he demands. The older soldier, still catching his breath, replies, "Sir, the fog covered the enemies after we rang the emergency alarm. Before that, we saw something... strange. A skeleton in armor." A murmur spreads through the assembled troops. "A skeleton? Walking?" one soldier mutters, disbelief evident in his voice. Another adds, "How can the dead walk?" Their questions are answered as the fog begins to dissipate, revealing a chilling sight. An army of skeletal warriors, wights, towering carrion ogres and monstrous creatures stands in formation, marrow hounds with fangs dripping ethereal ichor. Their hollow eyes glowing with an eerie light. A palpable fear grips the defenders. The captain, sensing the wavering morale, raises his voice. "Everyone, focus! No matter what these creatures are, we must defend our homeland!" The soldiers straighten, gripping their weapons tighter, resolve hardening in their eyes. Suddenly, a chilling aura envelops the city. The air grows cold, and an oppressive silence falls. From the midst of the undead army, a colossal skeletal hand materializes, gripping a massive sword forged of deathly energy. With a deafening roar, the hand swings down, the sword cleaving through the city, destroying buildings and walls in its path. The ground shakes violently, and a cloud of dust and debris rises. For a moment, there is stunned silence. Then, a young soldier, tears streaming down his face, cries out, "Run!" With the city''s defenses compromised, the undead surge forward with unnatural speed, their tier 4 strength overwhelming the human defenders. The undead breach the city''s perimeter, their movements a blur. Skeletal warriors, their armor clanking, charge with weapons raised. Wights emit eerie wails as they leap onto the battlements, tearing through the ranks. Carrion ogres, massive and grotesque, swing their clubs, sending soldiers flying. Captain Kedora barely has time to shout, "Hold the line!" before the first skeletal blade carves clean through a man beside him. "Back! Regroup at the¡ª" His command cuts off as a marrow hound crashes into him from above. Its jaws clamp down on his shoulder. He screams, channels his Tier 4 skill, and blasts the creature off with a shockwave. He stumbles to his feet, blood pouring down his arm. A towering wight lands in front of him, eyes glowing with unnatural hunger. Kedora roars, "You want a real fight?!" and hurls his blade into a spinning arc, igniting it with crimson energy. It slams into the wight''s torso¡ªonly for the creature to catch it mid-swing. With a sickening crunch, it drives its own bony hand into Kedora''s chest, piercing through the armor like paper. Kedora gasps, blood bubbling from his lips. His last words are a hoarse whisper. "Forgive me, Tirion..." He falls. The line breaks. All at once, the soldiers scream. Some fight. Most run. "Retreat!" someone yells. "They''re Tier 4! We''re not¡ª we''re not even close!" "Gods help us!" The older soldier from the watchtower, still gripping his spear, swings at a wight charging toward him. The blow connects¡ªonly for the creature to grab the shaft and shatter it with one hand. The soldier drops the splinters, draws a dagger, and roars defiantly. "For Valgros!" He doesn''t last long. The wight pins him to the wall, claws tearing through his chestplate. Nearby, Soldier 1 runs, breath ragged, the noise behind him a deafening storm of battle cries and dying screams. A marrow hound clips his leg, and he tumbles to the ground. He turns, stabbing blindly upward, luck granting him one desperate wound across the beast''s eye. It yelps and stumbles back¡ªjust in time for a carrion ogre''s foot to crush the young soldier in a single, brutal stomp. Buildings crumble as the undead pour in. Magic flares in the distance¡ªfireballs, lightning bolts, barriers¡ªbut none of it holds for long. Tier 2 and Tier 3 spells break against Tier 4 monstrosities. Mages scream as their protective circles shatter. An archer fires arrow after arrow from a rooftop¡ªuntil a winged wight tears him from the ledge and drops him screaming into the crowd. No reinforcements come. No miracles descend. Tirion falls in less than an hour. High above the city, Gorath floats with arms crossed, his massive form like a shadow against the moons. He watches the chaos below with a mixture of awe and amusement. "Heh... unbelievable," Gorath mutters, his tone rich with excitement. "This is just one-fifth of Bonepiercer''s legion... and still, look at them." Below him, the undead continue their relentless advance. Buildings collapse, flames rise, and human screams echo beneath the clash of steel and bone. The air thrums with power¡ªan oppressive, soul-chilling aura that pulses in waves. Gorath narrows his eyes as several skeletal step forward amidst the battlefield. Their hollow chests begin to glow faintly. One by one, they thrust their weapons into the ground and shout in a forgotten tongue. The air twists. Then, it happens. With a sudden crack of energy, the earth quakes and from their backs, spectral limbs begin to materialize¡ªcolossal skeletal arms of pure aura, large enough to crush a wagon with a flick. They raise that phantom limb into the air. The effect is instant. [Battleforged]¡ªthe Legion''s signature ability. Even incomplete, even as flickering projections of only a single arm¡ªthe pressure it exudes makes the entire city feel like it''s bowing. Gorath grins, a jagged smile splitting his craggy face. "Oh-ho... now that''s what I''m talkin'' about." He spreads his arms wide, his immense body crackling with contained energy. "Even just materializing one damn arm, and they turn the battlefield into a slaughterhouse. Hells, I''m getting fired up just watching this!" One of the spectral arms slams into a tower where surviving mages are casting in desperation. The structure implodes in an explosion of debris and flame. Screams vanish under the thunderous crash. He floats down slightly, just enough to better watch the aftermath¡ªTirion, once proud, now a ruin soaked in blood and ash. His eyes glow brighter. "And this... this is just the beginning." The fires still burn. The screams have faded, now replaced by the groans of the wounded and the eerie silence that follows only after something is truly broken. Tirion, now lies in ruin¡ªits spires shattered, its streets choked with debris and blood. Gorath hovers above the central plaza, arms folded, eyes scanning the remnants of resistance. Below, the last pockets of defenders¡ªthose too wounded to flee, too exhausted to fight¡ªbegin to drop their weapons. One by one. Then in clusters. A soldier falls to his knees, sobbing, his sword clattering to the cobblestone. Another throws down her shield and raises trembling hands. "...We surrender!" someone shouts hoarsely. And then others echo it. "We surrender! We surrender!" The cry spreads across what remains of Tirion''s defenders, rising above the silence like a desperate chant for mercy. Gorath''s glowing eyes narrow. His voice echoes across the battlefield, deep and commanding, carried by unnatural wind. "Bonepiercers! Don''t kill the ones that surrendered!" Chapter 151 - 153: Master Elstag The next morning. Firion City, Capital of Valgros Kingdom Rain lashes against the palace windows, a soft yet relentless drumming that seems to echo the grim mood within the grand war chamber. Magic lamp flicker along the stone walls, their flames dancing as if disturbed by unseen hands. The atmosphere is thick, heavy with dread. King Rewalt sits at the head of the long obsidian table, hands clasped tightly before him. His usually calm, commanding face is pale and tight with tension. A high-ranking scout finishes his report with trembling hands. "...And just before dawn, our scryers confirmed it. Tirion has fallen, Your Majesty. The city was overrun before reinforcements could be dispatched. We... we believe the entire garrison has been wiped out or taken." Silence settles like a shroud. Rewalt''s face twists, his jaw clenched. The sound of his knuckles cracking as he grips the edge of the table breaks the quiet. "...Destroyed in a single night," he mutters, barely louder than a whisper. " Over five thousand soldiers, and it still fell..." He turns his head slowly, his gaze falling on the man standing just beside him. "Marshal Tesvin," Rewalt says, his voice sharp with restrained fury. "Any word on Marshal Zinov? Or... my son?" Tesvin¡ªnormally composed, unshakable¡ªlowers his head. His armor is still dusted with ash from last night''s failed mobilization. "...No, Your Majesty," Tesvin says quietly. "There''s been no contact from Marshal Zinov''s command. Ashlight City is also in enemy hands." Tesvin hesitates. Just for a moment. Then he answers. "The last confirmed report, sire... was that His Highness Asdri encountered a Tier 6 entity in the capital of Ordeya. He fought it directly to hold the line." He swallows. "He... suffered grave injuries. The surviving healers said his condition remains unknown." The room falls into a terrible silence. King Rewalt lowers his head, eyes shadowed beneath his golden crown. For a moment, the king looks not like a ruler, but a father¡ªstricken by regret. "I shouldn''t have let him go to Ordeya..." he murmurs, his voice thick. "I should''ve kept him here. It''s my fault. I sent him into the jaws of death." Tesvin remains silent, respectful. The weight of the king''s guilt is heavy, and there are no words that can lift it. Then Rewalt straightens in his seat. His expression hardens. "We can''t lose another city," he says firmly. "Gather every soldier we have left. I don''t care if they''re stationed along the borders or guarding merchant routes. Pull them back. I want a force assembled¡ªnow." Tesvin nods immediately. "As you wish, Your Majesty." Rewalt gestures to a nearby servant, who carries a long, ornate box bound in enchanted steel and crimson leather. The servant steps forward and kneels, presenting the box to Tesvin. Rewalt places a hand on the lid. "Take this." Tesvin''s brows knit. "Sire?" Rewalt opens the box with a quiet click. Inside lies a magnificent weapon¡ªlong and wrapped in golden bindings, pulsing with a dormant power. Arcane etchings glow faintly along the blade''s edge, humming with barely contained force. "It''s the kingdom''s treasure," Rewalt says solemnly. "A Tier 6 weapon¡ªLion''s Fang." Tesvin stares at it in silence, awe and pressure settling into his chest. "You won''t be able to draw out its full strength," Rewalt admits. "Not yet. But even so... it should be enough to face a peak Tier 5." Tesvin''s jaw tightens. He bows low. "I will not disappoint you, Your Majesty." Rewalt adds, "Take the Golden Lion Legion with you." Tesvin''s head snaps up, eyes wide. "The Golden Lion? Are you certain, sire?" Rewalt nods without hesitation. "They''re the best we have. Two thousand soldiers¡ªevery one of them Tier 4. If we''re going to strike back, it has to be with our sharpest blade." Tesvin draws a slow breath, then gives a deep, resolute nod. "I''ll lead them, sire. We''ll hold the line. No more cities will fall." ------ Asdri''s eyes flutter, then slowly open¡ªcloudy at first, unfocused. The tent is dim, lit by soft enchantments that float like fireflies. The scent of herbs and blood fills the air. Valia gasps. "He''s awake!" Valia nearly collapses in relief. Her hands tremble as golden light fades from her palms. She''s been kneeling by Asdri''s side the entire night, her magic flowing nonstop, her face drawn and pale. "Oh, gods..." she whispers, blinking hard. "You idiot. You absolute idiot..." Asdri blinks slowly, voice a rasp. "Valia... I''m sorry." Around them, the others begin to stir. Ingra is sitting against the wall, arm wrapped in frost bandages. Pyke''s covered in bruises, legs propped up on a broken chair. Famir, quiet as ever, just leans against the window frame, relief softening his usually sharp expression. "Looks like our gamble worked," Pyke mutters with a crooked smile. "You''re too stubborn to die, huh?" Asdri tries to laugh¡ªonly to groan, wincing. Valia immediately presses a glowing hand to his ribs. "Hey, easy. You burned out almost everything. Your core, your channels... even your bones are cracked in three places." "...Worth it," he mutters. Ingra scoffs gently, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "Says the man who screamed like a banshee halfway through casting." Famir''s voice is low, but steady. "You did it. That thing''s gone. And the city still stands." Pyke leans back with a satisfied grunt, his arms behind his head. "This is good news. If we tell the folks back on Weldea Continent, they probably won''t even believe us. ''Oh yeah, we erased a Tier 6 monster with a combo spell.'' Ha! They''d think we become crazy." Ingra chuckles, brushing a lock of hair from her face. "It''s thanks to that old man giving us the link skill. What was his name again?" Asdri shifts slightly, grimacing. "Master Elstag. You''re right... I never imagined the link skill could go that far. We barely scratched the surface during training." He pauses, eyes thoughtful. "We should thank him when we get back to Weldea. I think this is the first time anyone''s pushed a link skill to its absolute limit." "We always used it for defense," Ingra adds. "Or simple support magic." Famir nods. "But channeling multiple Tier 5 skills into one body? That''s something else entirely." Valia crosses her arms, brow furrowed and looked at Asdri. "And nearly killed you." Her voice is sharp, but there''s a tremor in it. She doesn''t hide how scared she was. "We shouldn''t use that technique unless we have no other choice," she says. "It''s too dangerous." Asdri lets out a breath. "I know. I don''t plan on feeling that kind of pain again." He glances toward Pyke, a tired smirk forming. "...Maybe it''s your turn next time." Pyke raises both hands. "Whoa, no thanks. My bones like being intact. You''re the chosen one or whatever, not me." Everyone laughs¡ªtired, aching, but genuine. The kind of laughter that comes only after survival. Suddenly, the tent flap is pulled open with urgency, letting in a gust of wind and the smell of rain-soaked earth. Marshal Zinov steps inside, his armor scratched and his cloak damp from travel. His stern expression softens the moment his eyes land on Asdri. "Your Highness," he says, voice low with relief. "I''m glad you''re awake." Asdri manages a small smile. "Uncle... you know me. I''m not that easy to kill." Zinov chuckles once, but it doesn''t reach his eyes. "No, you''re not. But you scared us all." He kneels briefly beside the bed, placing a hand on Asdri''s shoulder. Then he rises with a sigh. "I wish I could stay, but I can''t. I need to return to the capital immediately." Asdri''s brow furrows. "What happened?" Zinov''s face hardens. "Tirion fell last night." The air in the tent freezes. All the warmth, all the lightheartedness, evaporates. Valia''s hand stills over Asdri''s ribs. Pyke straightens in his seat. Ingra''s eyes go wide, lips parted in disbelief. Famir says nothing¡ªbut his hand. "...What?" Asdri asks, voice hoarse. "Tirion fell?" Zinov nods grimly. "It was fast. Our outer wards went dark just before midnight. By dawn, the city was overrun. We lost contact with the command post, the towers, even the eastern watch. It''s... it''s gone." Asdri slowly pushes himself up despite Valia''s protests, his teeth clenched against the pain. "How many?" Zinov doesn''t answer at first. His jaw works, and for a moment, the Marshal looks older than ever. "Too many," he finally says. "Over five thousand stationed there. We... we''re not sure how many made it out. Maybe a few hundred, at most." Silence follows. A silence that presses on every chest. Zinov exhales slowly, then continues, his voice low and grave. "His Majesty has decided to go all out. He''s mobilizing everything we have to halt the enemy''s advance. No more delays. No more waiting. He''ll meet them head-on before they reach the heartlands." Asdri''s hands clench over the blanket. His breathing is uneven, but his gaze sharpens. "Please... be careful. We still don''t know if they have another Tier 6 on their side." Zinov offers a faint smile, one that doesn''t quite reach his tired eyes. "Don''t worry, Your Highness. The Valgros Kingdom isn''t something a single Tier 6 can destroy." He steps back, adjusting the grip on his sword belt. "Even monsters bleed. And if they don''t, we''ll teach them how." Asdri''s voice softens, heavy with gratitude. "Thank you... Uncle." Zinov meets his gaze for a long moment. Then he nods. "Get well, Asdri. You''re still needed. And when you''re ready... come find us." With that, he turns, his cloak snapping behind him as he strides out into the rain-soaked morning. The tent is quiet once more. Chapter 152 - 154: Noctaris City, Smithing Building The tent is quiet once more, but the weight of Zinov''s words lingers. Asdri slowly exhales, eyes drifting toward the flickering lantern above. Then, a sudden thought crosses his mind. His expression tightens. "...Any news about Alix?" he asks. The question hangs in the air. Zinov pauses near the flap, half-turned. His brows knit. "I was about to ask you the same thing." Pyke sits up straighter, running a hand through his mess of hair. "After the event, he just disappeared. The person we tasked to keep an eye on him? Vanished too." Ingra frowns. "Wait, what? Disappeared? You mean literally no trace?" Asdri''s fingers curl into the blanket. His voice is low, but sure. "My intuition is always right. That guy¡ªhe''s not just a Tier 4." Ingra tilts her head, eyeing him. "Is that your sixth sense acting up again?" Asdri nods slowly. "Yeah. It''s the same feeling I get when I stand in front of someone way stronger than me. That kind of pressure... the kind you don''t forget. And dangerous, too. Like a blade held just out of sight." Valia glances toward the flap where Zinov had disappeared. "So you''re saying... we''ve had someone like that right under our noses this whole time?" Famir, still silent by the window, speaks at last. "Maybe he didn''t want to be noticed. Maybe he let us see just enough to stay off the radar." Pyke mutters, "Well, he sure succeeded. If he''s really hiding that kind of power, then we''re lucky he''s not on the enemy''s side." Asdri shifts slightly, wincing as he speaks. "That''s why... I''m trying my best to befriend him. Keep him close, learn who he really is. And at the same time... keep an eye on him." Valia raises a brow, arms still crossed. "So, what? You want to recruit him?" "If possible," Asdri says, then glances at her. "But if not... at least I''ll know which way he leans when things get worse." Valia''s gaze lingers, then she sighs, her voice low. "It''s still weird though. Don''t you think? He disappears right when the city''s in chaos? Like he knew what was coming?" Ingra frowns. "Or didn''t want to get involved." Asdri leans back against the pillow, his breath uneven. "Okay," he says, voice quieter now. "Let''s not talk about Alix anymore." Everyone turns toward him. He closes his eyes for a beat, then opens them again. "He''s not here, and we''ve got enough on our plates as it is. We all need to heal¡ªphysically and mentally. Starting with me." Valia nods, stepping back toward him, her hands already glowing again. "Finally, something that makes sense." Pyke exhales through his nose. "Yeah, good call. I think my shoulder''s still dislocated." ------ Alix pushes open the heavy stone doors of the smithing building, the low hum of enchantments embedded in the walls resonating faintly in his ears. The interior is massive, cavernous, its ceiling arched with darksteel support beams that gleam under magical lighting. Rows of advanced forges, smelting chambers, crystal grinders, and gear molds line the walls¡ªmost of them idle, untouched, or half-disassembled. The air is thick with the smell of molten ore and arcane residue. Despite the cutting-edge equipment, most of the workstations are empty. The moment Alix steps inside, a large, horned figure hurries over, soot and sparks still clinging to his apron. It''s Grakkar, a hulking Molgor¡ªa forge-born monster species with rocky skin, obsidian claws, and heat-resistant lungs. The only blacksmith under Alix who can forge Tier 4 gear. And the one Alix made to lead the blacksmiths right now. "Lord Alix!" Grakkar booms, bowing slightly, his deep voice echoing through the hall. "You grace the forge with your presence." Alix gives a small nod. "Grakkar. How''s progress?" Grakkar scratches the side of his jaw, glancing toward the rows of unused stations. "Slow. The gear is here, but... we don''t know how to use half of it. These machines... they''re not like the ones we''re familiar with." Alix steps deeper into the forge, his boots clicking against blackened stone. The temperature here is high¡ªeven without the forges running full force¡ªbut it doesn''t bother him. He moves with calm purpose, his sharp eyes scanning the layout, noting which stations are operational and which are clearly untouched. "I figured as much," he says, folding his arms as he stops near an inactive runic crucible. Its surface is pristine, untouched. "This forge was meant for smiths with technical knowledge far beyond what you know." Grakkar grunts, his clawed hands resting on his hips. "Aye. I''ve been training the younger ones on the basics, but even I don''t understand half the functions. These glyphs"¡ªhe gestures toward a dormant gear engraver glowing faintly with dormant runes¡ª"they shift and change depending on material input. That''s not normal smithing." Grakkar''s frown deepens as he watches Alix. "We''ve never seen anything like it before. It''s all advanced tech... even if we could figure out how to use it, I''m not sure if our knowledge would be enough to handle it." Alix steps closer to the runic crucible, gently running his fingers across the cool surface. "These machines are far beyond just brute force," he says. "They require a mastery of both magical and physical crafting that only the highest-tier smiths can comprehend. You don''t have to worry about them for now." Grakkar tilts his head, curious. "Then... what should we do?" "You need to focus on improving your own smithing first," Alix replies, his voice calm and steady. "Once you and your team reach a higher level of proficiency, you''ll understand how to use these machines. Right now, the most important thing is to ensure your basics are solid. Build up your skills." Grakkar nods thoughtfully, absorbing Alix''s words. "Thank you, your majesty. With the resources and techniques you''ve given us, we are improving very quickly. I can feel the difference already." Alix smiles slightly, the corners of his mouth lifting. "That''s good to hear. Because for my kingdom to grow, I need capable people like you and everyone here. The future depends on all of you." Grakkar''s eyes gleam with determination. "We won''t let you down. We''ll keep pushing forward, learning everything we can. You''ve given us the tools¡ªnow it''s up to us to master them." Alix gives a slow nod, his gaze unwavering. "I have no doubt you will." Alix turns slightly, eyes scanning another section of the forge where a group of salamanders¡ªsmall, fire-infused beastkin with molten-red skin and ember eyes¡ªwork in quiet coordination, their hands moving with natural rhythm and control as they shape metal. "What about the salamanders?" Alix asks, nodding toward them. Grakkar lets out a low rumble, clearly impressed. "They''re amazing, your majesty. There''s one in particular¡ªZorov, I think his name is¡ªhe''s catching up to me fast." Alix raises a brow. "That fast?" "Aye," Grakkar says, arms crossing over his broad chest. "It''s not just natural talent, either. He''s hungry to learn. I and my clan... we''ve been smithing all our lives, raised as slaves in human forges. Chained to the craft since we were old enough to lift a hammer. But these salamanders? They''re closing the gap like it''s nothing." He looks over at the group, admiration clear in his voice. "They don''t just understand fire¡ªthey are fire. It moves with them, bends to their will. I''ve seen them temper a blade by instinct alone, no tools. Just heat, focus, and their bare hands. It''s almost... artistic." Alix follows his gaze, watching as Zorov carefully molds a blade''s edge using only a pair of heat-shielded tongs and his breath¡ªfaint flames dancing from his mouth, keeping the metal at the perfect glow. As Alix walks further down the forge aisle, his gaze lingers on a table stacked with failed prototypes¡ªwarped blades, cracked cores, and a few broken hilts, each one showing signs of magic rejection or destabilization. He stops beside one and picks up a shattered gauntlet embedded with fragmented runes. The mana lines are burnt out, like they overloaded mid-process. "What about the technique of fusing skills into equipment?" Alix asks, turning the gauntlet over in his hand. "Have you had any success yet?" Grakkar exhales sharply, the sound rough like grinding stone. "I''ve tried everything, your majesty. Followed the forging instructions you gave me step by step. Down to the timing, the heat levels, the binding glyphs. But every single attempt... it ends in failure." He gestures toward the scrap pile with a frustrated grunt. "Sometimes the item outright rejects the skill. Other times, it fuses halfway¡ªjust enough to make the whole thing unstable. One pulse of mana, and boom. Feedback surge. Dangerous stuff." Alix studies the gauntlet for a moment longer, then places it back down with care. "What about the mana anchors? Did you try layering them with dual-threaded glyphs before applying the skill core?" Grakkar nods. "I did. Even tried interweaving the glyphs with mana veins, just like in your notes. But it''s like the skills themselves refuse to settle inside the gear. Like they''re alive... and fighting back." There''s a brief silence between them, the distant clink of hammers echoing through the massive forge. "Skill fusion isn''t something that should be possible with brute methods," Alix murmurs, half to himself. "It''s not just about binding magic to metal. It''s about synchronization. Will, purpose... alignment." Grakkar tilts his head. "You mean the equipment and the skill need to... agree with each other?" "In a way, yes," Alix replies, his tone thoughtful. "The item has to be prepared to accept a skill. And the skill has to be channeled, not forced. There''s a reason only a handful of blacksmiths in the world ever managed it." Chapter 153 - 155: Obsidian Pendant Alix continues his inspection of the forge, his gaze sharp and discerning. He walks past rows of workstations, noting the progress and challenges faced by his blacksmiths. His attention is drawn to a young salamander, Zorov. Approaching Zorov, Alix observes the young blacksmith''s technique. Zorov, engrossed in his work, senses the presence and looks up, his eyes widening in surprise. "Your control over the flame is impressive, Zorov," Alix remarks, his tone measured yet appreciative. Zorov''s face lights up with pride. "Thank you, your majesty. I''ve been practicing, trying to master the techniques Grakkar taught us." Alix nods, "Your dedication is evident. Continue honing your skills; your potential is significant." Zorov bows respectfully, his enthusiasm palpable. "I won''t let you down, my lord." Satisfied with the progress, Alix turns and makes his way back to the palace. Alix strides through the grand corridors of the palace, the rhythmic echo of his boots a familiar cadence against the polished stone floors. The air is cooler here, a stark contrast to the forge''s intense heat. He ascends the spiral staircase leading to his working chambers, the weight of leadership pressing upon his shoulders. Upon entering his working chamber, the scent of parchment and ink greets him. Sunlight filters through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the room. On his desk, a stack of reports awaits, neatly arranged by his aides. He approaches, his eyes scanning the topmost document. Breaking the seal, he unfolds the report, his gaze sharpening as he reads: "The war with Ordeya progresses. Our forces continue their advance, meeting minimal resistance. The Bonepiercers Legion from Varkas has ceased its movements. No reinforcements have been requested." Alix''s brow furrows slightly, a contemplative expression settling on his face. He sets the report down, leaning back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. "So, Varkas has chosen to withdraw its support from Ordeya," he muses aloud, the words hanging in the quiet room. "This development simplifies our strategy. Without their aid, Ordeya stands vulnerable." He rises, moving to the window, gazing out over the city below. The sun casts long shadows, signaling the approach of evening. A sense of resolve settles over him. "Prepare the next phase of our campaign," he instructs, his voice firm. "With Varkas stepping back, we must seize this opportunity to bring Ordeya to its knees." Turning from the window, Alix returns to his desk, penning directives with swift precision. The path ahead is clearer now, and he intends to lead his kingdom to victory. In the heart of the recently conquered city, the command room is dimly lit, its walls adorned with maps and tactical charts. General Varkas, stands at the head of the table. Seated around him are the commanders. Sorin, Nyssara, Thurn, and Veltha. Varkas clears his throat, his voice deep and resonant. "I have received orders from His Majesty. He wants us to end it all." Sorin leans forward. "General, does that mean we''re to attack Ordeya''s capital?" Varkas nods solemnly. "Yes. The time has come to strike at the heart of Ordeya." Nyssara, whose chitinous limbs glint in the dim light, interjects, "But can we do it? Ordeya has a heritage spanning thousands of years. Surely, they have hidden defenses." Varkas offers a reassuring smile. "Do not worry. His Majesty has provided me with specialized items for various scenarios. We are prepared." Sorin''s eyes sparkle with admiration. "As expected of His Majesty. He has calculated every possible outcome." Varkas concludes, "Prepare your units. We move at dawn." The morning sun casts a golden hue over the spires of Ordeya''s capital, its light filtering through the grand windows of the royal palace. Queen Seraphina stands on a marble balcony overlooking the city, her posture regal yet contemplative. The streets below bustle with activity, but a palpable tension hangs in the air. Behind her, Medren awaits her command. His armor gleams softly in the sunlight, but his expression is shadowed by concern. "Medren," Seraphina begins, her voice steady, "what do you make of Valgros''s silence? They leave us isolated while the enemy encroaches upon us slowly." Medren steps forward, his tone measured. "Your Majesty, if the roles were reversed, would we act differently? In the face of overwhelming odds, alliances often falter." A soft chuckle escapes Seraphina''s lips. "You''re right. It''s a bitter truth, but one we must accept." Medren observes the queen, recalling the skepticism that surrounded her ascension. As the first woman to rule Ordeya, many predicted the kingdom''s decline. Yet under her leadership, prosperity flourished. His respect for her has only deepened over time. Turning to face him, Seraphina''s eyes blaze with determination. "We will not surrender. We will fight to the last. Will you stand with me, Medren?" Without hesitation, Medren kneels, his voice resolute. "With my life, Your Majesty." The queen places a hand on his shoulder, a silent vow passing between them. Together, they will face whatever challenges lie ahead, unwavering in their commitment to Ordeya. ---- At noon, the horizon darkens as General Varkas''s formidable army emerges, a vast sea of over a hundred thousand monster soldiers and eight thousand human troops. Leading this force are Sorin, Nyssara, Thurn, and Veltha, each commanding their specialized units. The defenders of Ordeya, numbering seventy thousand, watch with growing unease as the enemy''s strength appears undiminished, even augmented. From the battlements, a Captain surveys the approaching horde. "By the gods," he mutters, "their numbers have swelled. This isn''t just a siege; it''s an overwhelming force." Beside him, a Lieutenant tightens her grip on her spear. "We expected them to be weakened," she says, her voice tense. "Instead, they''ve brought reinforcements." In the command tower, Queen Seraphina stands resolute, her gaze fixed on the encroaching army. Medren approaches, concern etched on his face. "Your Majesty, their numbers are vast. Our scouts report no signs of fatigue or depletion among their ranks." Seraphina turns to him, her expression unwavering. "Then we must be the wall that holds firm," she declares. "Ordeya''s spirit is not measured by numbers but by our resolve." Medren bows deeply. The barrier envelops the capital, shimmering with an ethereal glow as it stretches over the city. Medren''s eyes narrow, focusing on the unfamiliar weapon among the enemy ranks¡ªa massive cannon pulsating with arcane energy. Above, General Varkas floats effortlessly, his voice booming across the battlefield. "Humans, as is my custom before an assault, I offer you a choice: surrender." A tense silence falls over the defenders. Medren steps forward, his voice cutting through the stillness. "We will not yield!" With a commanding gesture, Varkas signals the attack. The cannon at the rear discharges, unleashing a concentrated beam of raw magical force. The beam strikes the barrier with a deafening roar, and the shield shatters like glass under a hammer. The defenders gasp in horror. Medren''s jaw clenches. He had believed the barrier impervious, capable of withstanding multiple Tier 5 spells. Yet, it crumbles effortlessly. Mages rush to the frontlines, their hands trembling as they channel mana stones into the barrier''s matrix. Energy crackles in the air as they work frantically to restore the shield, but the damage is substantial. The once-impenetrable defense now flickers, unstable and uncertain. Medren''s gaze hardens. "Prepare for the worst," he mutters, steeling himself for the battle to come. The battle erupts with a deafening roar as Nyssara''s shield-wielding units charge forward, their massive shields raised like walls of iron. The ground trembles beneath their synchronized steps, a testament to their discipline and unity. Each shield is not merely a defensive tool but a weapon of destruction, capable of crushing foes with brutal efficiency. The cannon fires again, its colossal barrel glowing with arcane energy. A blinding beam of magical force erupts from the cannon, striking the city''s gate with a thunderous impact. The reinforced gates, once thought impregnable, splinter and crumble under the relentless assault. Debris rains down as the once-mighty barrier falls, leaving the city vulnerable. Medren watches in horror as the gate collapses. His heart sinks; the city''s defenses are failing. He turns to the mages at his side, urgency in his voice. "We need to reinforce the barrier, now! Channel all available mana into it!" The mages nod, fear evident in their eyes as they begin the arduous task of rebuilding the shield. Their hands tremble as they draw upon mana stones, their energy flickering like dying embers. The barrier shimmers weakly, a mere shadow of its former strength. Meanwhile, Nyssara''s forces hold the front line. The ground becomes a chaotic as shields clash and spells and arrows rain down. Nyssara herself leads the charge, her arachnid limbs moving with terrifying speed and precision. "Push forward!!!" Her units follow her command without hesitation, their shields forming an impenetrable wall as they advance. Despite the human soldiers efforts, the cannon continues its relentless barrage. Another blast shakes the ground as the cannon fires again, this time targeting the city''s walls. The impact sends shockwaves through the defenders, knocking several off their feet. The once-sturdy walls begin to crack and crumble under the sustained assault. Queen Seraphina stands atop the command tower, her eyes fixed on the shattered barrier and the crumbling gates of Ordeya. The once-impervious defenses now lie in ruins, and the enemy''s relentless assault sends shockwaves through the city. Her heart pounds, disbelief etched across her face. A royal guard rushes to her side, urgency in his voice. "Your Majesty, it''s no longer safe here. We must relocate to the inner sanctum immediately!" Seraphina''s gaze remains fixed on the devastation below. She slowly reaches into her pocket and retrieves a small, intricately carved obsidian pendant. Its surface pulses with a faint, ethereal glow. Chapter 154 - 156: The Sorrows End She holds the pendant aloft, her voice rising in a resonant chant that echoes across the battlefield. "By the ancient covenant of Ordeya, I call upon the sacred light. Let the bonds of our ancestors awaken and shield us from despair." The pendant begins to levitate, spinning rapidly as beams of light shoot out in all directions. A brilliant magic circle materializes above the city, its intricate patterns glowing with golden energy. The circle expands, encompassing the entire city in a protective aura. A surge of power washes over the defenders. Wounded soldiers feel their strength returning, their fatigue melting away. Mages, previously drained, find their mana reserves replenished, their spells casting with renewed vigor. Archers and swordsmen alike feel lighter, faster, more precise. On the front lines, Medren watches in awe as the tide begins to turn. A nearby mage, eyes wide with wonder, responds, "It''s the Blessing of Ordeya. The queen has awakened the city''s ancient magic." Emboldened, the defenders rally. With renewed strength, they push back against the invading forces, their morale soaring. The once-dim hope of victory now burns brightly in their hearts. Above it all, Queen Seraphina stands resolute, her eyes reflecting the golden glow of the magic circle. Her voice carries across the battlefield, "Ordeya will not fall. We stand united, our spirits unbroken. Fight, my people, for our home, for our future!" General Varkas hovers above the battlefield. His crimson eyes gleam with amusement as he observes the defenders of Ordeya rallying with newfound vigor. The radiant magic circle above the city bathes the battlefield in golden light, invigorating the human forces. "Interesting," Varkas murmurs, a smirk playing on his lips. "This skill already as strong as tier 6 skill. This should make things more entertaining." He turns his gaze to the front lines, where Nyssara''s shield-bearing units press forward relentlessly. Their massive shields, now glowing with a faint aura, absorb and deflect the enhanced attacks from the Ordeyan soldiers. "Come on boys!" Nyssara commands, her voice cutting through the din of battle. "Reflect thier attacks!" Sorin stands atop a jagged outcrop, her assassin''s garb fluttering in the wind. She surveys the renewed vigor of the human forces with narrowed eyes. With a swift motion, she activates a communication device, a sleek obsidian shard pulsing with dark energy. "Commanders," Sorin''s voice cuts through the static, calm yet commanding. "Initiate the ''Finger of the Death God'' skill. We''ll shatter their barrier in a single strike." A brief pause follows, then acknowledgments crackle through the device: "Acknowledged," Thurn''s gravelly voice responds. "Understood," Veltha''s tone is sharp and eager. "Ready," Nyssara''s voice is laced with anticipation. Across the battlefield, the monstrous units begin to converge. Sorin''s warrior soldiers, Thurn''s poison-infused beasts, Veltha''s swift monstrosities, and Nyssara''s shield-bearing units all move with synchronized precision. Their individual auras¡ªonce distinct¡ªbegin to merge, forming a swirling vortex of dark energy above them. The sky darkens as the combined aura coalesces into a colossal, ethereal finger pointing directly at Ordeya''s barrier. The air grows thick with oppressive energy, and a low hum resonates across the battlefield. From the command tower, Queen Seraphina watches in horror. "What sorcery is this?" she whispers. Medren, standing beside her, grips his sword tightly. "Everyone, be ready!" he shouts to the defenders. With a deafening roar, the ''Finger of the Death God'' descends upon the barrier. The protective shield shatters instantly, fragments of magical energy scattering like glass. The force of the blast sends shockwaves through the city, toppling structures and throwing soldiers off their feet. As the dust settles, Sorin''s voice echoes once more through the communication device. "Advance. Leave none standing." The battlefield erupts into chaos as the monsters horde surges forward, their war cries blending into a cacophony of fury. The defenders of Ordeya, invigorated by the Blessing of Ordeya, stand their ground, their resolve unshaken. The clash is immediate and brutal. Nyssara''s shield-bearing monsters lead the charge, their massive forms crashing into the front lines like battering rams. Their shields absorb and deflect the enhanced attacks from the Ordeyan soldiers. Behind them, Thurn''s poison-infused monsters slither and lurch, their venomous fangs seeking any opening in the human defenses. Veltha''s swift monstrosities dart through the chaos, their movements a blur as they exploit gaps in the lines, sowing confusion and panic. Sorin''s warrior soldiers, disciplined and relentless, press the attack with their skills, their blades flashing in the sunlight. The defenders respond with equal ferocity. Archers release volleys of arrows, mages unleash torrents of fire and ice, and swordsmen meet the onslaught head-on. The air is thick with the scent of blood and smoke, the ground slick with the fallen. Amidst the turmoil, Queen Seraphina stands atop the command tower, her voice carrying across the battlefield: "Hold the line! For Ordeya!" Her words galvanize the defenders, their spirits bolstered by her unwavering presence. They fight not just for survival, but for their home, their families, their future. The battlefield is a maelstrom of chaos and fury. Amidst the clamor, Varkas, his lycanthropic form towering and menacing, floats closer to the command tower where Medren stands. "Human," Varkas growls, his voice a guttural snarl, "don''t you feel bored just watching the battle?" Medren meets his gaze, eyes blazing with determination. "Of course, I am bored." he retorts, gripping his flaming sword tightly, "I will kill you and end this battle right away." With a roar, Varkas lunges forward, claws extended. Medren responds instantly, invoking his Tier 4 fire skill. "Inferno Blade!" His sword erupts in flames, the heat distorting the air around it. Their clash is explosive. Varkas''s claws meet Medren''s flaming blade, sparks and embers flying. The force of their collision sends shockwaves through the battlefield. Varkas snarls, his claws slashing in rapid succession. Medren parries deftly, each block sending bursts of flame into the air. He counters with a sweeping arc of his sword, flames trailing in its wake. Varkas leaps back, then charges again with a feral howl. Medren braces himself, channeling his energy. "Flame Wall!" A barrier of fire erupts between them, forcing Varkas to halt his advance. Undeterred, Varkas circles around, seeking an opening. Medren watches him closely, sweat mingling with soot on his brow. "Not bad, human." Varkas admits, a twisted grin on his face. With a guttural roar, Varkas activates his Tier 4 skill, Savage Onslaught. His form blurs as he lunges at Medren with a flurry of claw strikes, each blow carrying the weight of his monstrous strength. Medren meets the assault head-on, his Tier 4 skill, igniting his sword in blazing flames. He parries and counters, each clash sending sparks and embers flying. Seizing an opening, Medren channels his energy into a powerful thrust, his sword engulfed in fire. The attack connects, sending Varkas skidding backward. Varkas snarls, blood trickling from a wound. "I guess unless I go all out, I won''t be able to defeat you," he concedes. He taps into his Tier 5 bloodline skill. A crimson aura envelops him, his muscles bulging as his power surges. His eyes glow with a feral light. "Now, feel the true might of a lycanthrope," Varkas declares. He follows up with his ordinary Tier 5 skill, Predator''s Fury, further enhancing his speed and strength. In a blur, he''s upon Medren, launching a relentless barrage of attacks. Medren struggles to keep up, his armor absorbing the brunt of the blows. He grits his teeth, focusing his energy. "I won''t let you win," he vows. With a surge of power, he activates his strongest tier 5 skill, Phoenix Rebirth. Flames engulf him, healing his wounds and boosting his abilities. He meets Varkas''s assault with renewed vigor, their battle lighting up the battlefield. The clash of fire and fury continues, each warrior pushing the other to their limits. Queen Seraphina stands atop the command tower, her gaze fixed on the battlefield below. Despite the Blessing of Ordeya empowering her soldiers, the tide of battle remains uncertain. She murmurs to herself, "Even with the buff skill, my soldiers are still struggling." Reaching into her robes, she retrieves a communication crystal, its surface shimmering with arcane energy. She speaks into it, her voice steady but urgent, "Commander, deploy the adventurers now. It''s time for the surprise attack." A moment of static follows, then a voice crackles through, strained and panicked, "Your Majesty, we are under attack! A thousand assassins have ambushed us from behind. They''re... they''re overwhelming us!" Seraphina''s eyes widen in shock. The Shadows of the Monsters¡ªelite units known for their stealth and lethality¡ªwere supposed to be elsewhere. She clenches her fists, the crystal trembling in her grasp. "Hold your ground, Commander. Reinforcements will be dispatched immediately," she commands, her voice resolute. Turning to her aides, she orders, "Send a detachment to support the adventurers. We cannot afford to lose them." As the aides rush to carry out her orders, Seraphina gazes out over the battlefield, the weight of the unfolding chaos pressing heavily upon her. Her mind drifts to the ornate box secured within the inner sanctum of the tower. Inside lies an artifact of immense power¡ªa relic whose origin she doesn''t know, nor how the first king of Ordeya came to possess it. She has always known of its existence, a last resort meant only for the direst of circumstances. She whispers to herself, "The Sorrow''s End... a fitting name." The artifact''s power is unparalleled, capable of annihilating entire armies with a single invocation. But its reach is indiscriminate. If unleashed, it would not only obliterate the enemy but also her own forces, the city, and perhaps even the land itself. Chapter 155 - 157: The End Of Ordeya Kingdom As the battle rages on, the defenders'' lines begin to falter. The monsters press their advantage, their relentless assault driving the defenders back. The air is thick with the scent of blood and smoke, the ground slick with the fallen. Seraphina''s hand hovers over the communication crystal. She hesitates, torn between her duty to protect her people and the devastating consequences of using the artifact. "Your Majesty," an old mage calls out, urgency in his voice. "The eastern wall has been breached. We can''t hold them much longer." Seraphina''s eyes narrow, resolve hardening. She grips the crystal tightly, her voice steady. "Prepare the artifact," she commands. "But do not activate it until I give the order." The old mage nods, rushing to carry out her command. Seraphina turns back to the battlefield, her heart heavy with the weight of the decision before her. "May the gods forgive me," she whispers. The battlefield trembles beneath the fury of clashing titans. Medren, his armor scorched and battered, stands firm, his flaming sword gripped tightly. Across from him, Varkas¡ªnow fully transformed into his monstrous lycanthropic form¡ªgrins with savage delight. "Come, human! Show me your strongest. I''ll take it head-on... and then I''ll tear you apart!" Medren''s eyes narrow, determination etched into every line of his face. He raises his sword high, the flames intensifying, swirling around him like a fiery tempest. "Very well," Medren replies, his voice steady. He channels his remaining energy, invoking his ultimate Tier 5 skill: Solar Ascension. A radiant aura envelops him, the flames around his sword transforming into a brilliant, golden light. The ground beneath him cracks, unable to withstand the sheer force of his power. Varkas''s grin widens, his claws flexing in anticipation. With a roar, Medren charges, his sword blazing with solar energy. He strikes with precision and fury, each blow a testament to his unyielding spirit. Varkas meets him head-on, their clash sending shockwaves through the battlefield. The two warriors exchange blows, their movements a blur. Medren''s Solar Ascension skill empowers him, his attacks searing through the air with intensity. Varkas counters with feral strength, his claws rending the earth as he fights with ferocity. As the battle reaches its climax, Varka''s blood trickling from a wound. "Now, feel the true might of a lycanthrope," Varkas declares. He follows up with his Tier 5 skill, Moonlit Cataclysm, further enhancing his speed and strength. In a blur, he''s upon Medren, launching a relentless barrage of attacks. Medren struggles to keep up, his armor absorbing the brunt of the blows. He grits his teeth, focusing his energy. But Varkas has another plan. He taps into another Tier 5 bloodline skill: Lunar Devastation. A silver aura envelops him, his form becoming a blur as he unleashes a devastating flurry of attacks. Medren tries to defend, but the onslaught is too much. Varkas''s claws pierce through his armor, tearing into his flesh. With a final, savage blow, Varkas drives his claws into Medren''s chest, ending the battle. Medren falls to the ground, his sword slipping from his grasp. Varkas stands over him, victorious. The battlefield falls silent, the defenders of Ordeya stunned by the loss of their marshal. Varkas lets out a triumphant roar, signaling the monsters'' victory. From the command tower, Queen Seraphina watches in horror. She knows that the time has come to make a choice. She turns to the old mage. "Activate the artifact," she commands. Suddenly, a deafening hum fills the air. The clouds above the city swirl violently, parting to reveal a colossal being descending from the heavens. It has immense white wings that stretch across the sky, and in its hands, it holds a floating cube pulsating with energy. The soldiers and monsters alike pause, their gazes drawn upward in awe and terror. The old mage, standing beside Queen Seraphina, trembles as he recognizes the entity. "No," he whispers, his voice quivering. "I''ve read about this in the ancient texts. It''s the ultimate trump card of the kingdom... Sorrow''s End. But its power... it will annihilate the city." He turns to where Seraphina is located, desperation in his eyes. "Your Majesty, do you intend to destroy the city and us all just to eliminate the enemy?" Seraphina''s eyes are fixed on the battlefield, where Medren''s lifeless body lies. Her heart is heavy with grief, her mind clouded with rage. She clenches her fists, her voice cold and resolute. "Make the barrier cover only half of the city," she commands. The old mage hesitates, horror etched on his face. "Your Majesty, doing so will strengthen the barrier, yes, but all our soldiers outside its protection will be caught in the blast." Seraphina turns to him, her gaze unwavering. "I know. But as long as our citizens survive, we can rebuild. Even if it means sacrificing our soldiers, we must protect the future of Ordeya." She raises the communication crystal to her lips, her voice echoing across the battlefield. "All units, retreat immediately. Use your speed to escape the blast radius. This is not a request¡ªit''s an order." The soldiers, though shocked, obey without question. They begin to fall back. The old mage, tears streaming down his face, begins the incantation to adjust the barrier. As the barrier shifts, covering only half of the city, the colossal being in the sky raises the cube high above its head. The energy within it intensifies, casting a blinding light over the land. The final act of desperation is about to unfold, a sacrifice made to ensure the survival of a kingdom. As the radiant being in the sky prepares to unleash its devastating attack, Varkas senses the impending doom. The air thickens with tension, and a blinding light gathers around the cube held by the celestial entity. The ground trembles beneath the weight of the impending catastrophe. Varkas, standing amidst the chaos, feels a chill run down his spine. He gazes upward, eyes narrowing as he assesses the threat. "If that attack hits us," he mutters, voice low and grave, "there will be no one left to tell the tale." Reaching into a pouch at his side, Varkas retrieves a small, ornate shield¡ªan item bestowed upon him by his sovereign. Its surface shimmers with ancient runes, pulsating with latent energy. With a swift motion, he tosses it into the air. The shield ascends, hovering above the city, expanding rapidly into a vast, translucent barrier. The celestial being releases the energy stored within the cube. A colossal beam of light descends, illuminating the battlefield with blinding intensity. The beam strikes the shield conjured by Varkas''s item. A thunderous impact resonates, shaking the very foundations of the city. The shield holds, absorbing the brunt of the attack. Waves of energy ripple across its surface, distorting the air and sending shockwaves through the surroundings. The ground quakes, and debris is hurled into the air. Varkas braces himself, muscles tensed, as he endures the aftermath of the clash. Dust and smoke envelop the area, obscuring vision. As the light dissipates, the shield remains intact, though visibly strained, its glow flickering. The battlefield falls silent once more, the immediate threat neutralized. The radiant being in the sky begins to dissipate, its form unraveling into streams of light that fade into the heavens. The battlefield, moments ago engulfed in chaos, now lies in stunned silence. Human soldiers, their weapons still raised, stand frozen, eyes wide with disbelief. The monstrous figure of Varkas, stands tall amidst the remnants of the clash, his presence commanding attention. Varkas steps forward, his voice resonating across the field. "Humans, do you still wish to fight? After witnessing your queen''s willingness to sacrifice you all?" The soldiers exchange glances, the weight of his words sinking in. One by one, weapons clatter to the ground, a chorus of surrender echoing through the air. Queen Seraphina, from her vantage point, watches the scene unfold. Her knees give way, and she collapses to the ground, the reality of her failed gambit crashing down upon her. "How... How could this happen?" A royal guard rushes to her side, concern etched on his face. "Your Majesty, are you alright?" Seraphina said. "I... I was prepared to sacrifice everything. And yet..." Varka''s eyes scanning the horizon. With a powerful leap, he ascends into the air, he soars towards the command tower where Queen Seraphina resides. Inside the tower, Seraphina struggles to her feet, her body trembling from the aftermath of the failed assault. The royal guard, ever vigilant, positions himself between her and the approaching threat, his sword drawn and stance firm. Varkas lands with a thunderous impact, the stone floor cracking beneath his weight. Without hesitation, he swats the guard aside, sending him crashing into the far wall with a sickening crunch. Seraphina meets Varkas''s gaze, her eyes burning with defiance. "What about we stop here now, queen Seraphina?" Varkas growls, his voice a deep rumble. Seraphina straightens, her chin held high. "Kill me if you must," she spits. "I would rather die than serve your filthy king." Varkas''s eyes narrow, his expression darkening. "You dare insult my king?" he snarls. "You have sealed your fate." Seraphina, though trembling, meets his gaze with unwavering defiance. "Do it," she says, her voice steady. "I will not beg. I will not kneel." Varkas narrows his eyes, a growl rumbling from his throat. "Your pride is admirable." With a swift motion, he raises his clawed hand. Seraphina closes her eyes, a single tear escaping down her cheek. Smart History The claw descends. Moments later, Varkas emerges from the tower, holding Seraphina''s severed head aloft. Blood drips from his claws, staining the stone beneath him. "Behold!" he roars, his voice echoing across the battlefield. "The reign of Ordeya ends today! Let this be a lesson to all who defy the might of our king!" Chapter 156 - 158: Gander, The Curse Mage The scent of incense lingers in the air, mixing with the sweet aroma of wine. Silk drapes flutter softly in the dim glow of lanterns, casting golden light across the king''s vast private chamber. King Rewalt reclines on a mountain of velvet cushions, his tunic half-undone, the glint of sweat on his chest betraying the weight of his recent frustrations. His fingers lazily trace the curve of the woman straddling his lap¡ªone of his favorite concubines, a raven-haired beauty. She leans into him, her lips trailing across his throat, her voice a soft purr. "Let me take the burden from your mind, my king... Just for a while." His hand tightens around her hip. "You always know exactly when I need you," he murmurs, voice low, worn with exhaustion. "These damned monsters... endless reports, council squabbles. Even the wine doesn''t taste like it used to." She chuckles, arching her back as her hands slip behind his neck. "Then let me be your escape." Her movements are slow and teasing, her eyes fixed on him as she sways gently. The sounds of pleasure and whispered promises fill the chamber, muffled only by the silk canopy above the bed. Rewalt groans, tension melting from his shoulders as he sinks deeper into the moment. For once, the weight of his crown doesn''t feel quite so crushing. Then¡ªa knock. Sharp. Urgent. The king''s brow furrows. Again. "Your Majesty! An emergency report¡ªit cannot wait!" comes a voice from the other side of the heavy oak door. Rewalt growls under his breath. "Now?" The concubine stills on his lap, giving him a worried glance. "Shall I send them away?" He exhales deeply, his mood souring. "No. If someone''s knocking here... it''s serious." He adjusts his robe and motions for her to step aside. She does, quietly wrapping herself in a silk shawl and vanishing behind a privacy curtain. "Enter," Rewalt commands. The doors swing open. A young royal messenger rushes in, breathless, dirt and ash still clinging to his cloak. The boy kneels immediately. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I was told to bring this directly to you¡ªwithout delay." Rewalt steps down from the dais, tying his robe tighter, a storm already brewing in his eyes. "Speak, boy. What is it?" The messenger swallows hard. "Ordeya has fallen, sire. Queen Seraphina... is dead." For a moment, the room itself seems to still¡ªonly the distant crackle of the fireplace dares to break the silence. "...What did you say?" he asks, voice low, almost a whisper. The messenger lowers his head further, trembling under the weight of the news. "Marshal Medren was slain in battle. The queen activated their final weapon... but it was nullified. The monsters have taken the capital. Ordeya has... collapsed, Your Majesty." Rewalt''s lips part slightly, as if to speak¡ªbut no words come. He stares past the boy, eyes unfocused, chest rising and falling with slow, shallow breaths. Rewalt slowly sinks into a chair by the fire, his face pale as the heat of the moment bleeds out of him. He leans forward, elbows on knees, his fingers steepled against his lips. Silence thickens. "...In just one day..." he murmurs. "And Ordeya... all gone." The concubine emerges from behind the curtain, shawl clutched to her chest. "My king?" she whispers, hesitant to approach. Rewalt lifts his head slowly, eyes filled with a rare dread. "Do you know what kind of power Seraphina wielded?" His voice is raw now, tinged with fear. "Ordeya had a trump card that even I feared. A divine weapon left from the first king¡ªSorrow''s End. And it was destroyed. Overpowered." He slams his fist onto the armrest. The crack echoes through the chamber. "What in the gods'' names is that monster?" The messenger dares a quiet breath. "The report claims he summoned a shield. Something that absorbed the blast." He mutters, more to himself than to the others, "Should I send word across the sea... ask the other continents for aid?" The concubine kneels beside him, eyes full of concern. "Would they answer, Your Majesty?" A bitter smirk touches Rewalt''s lips. "They see us as nothing more than a stubborn old mountain kingdom. They''d laugh at our plea¡ªif they answered at all." Silence stretches. Then Rewalt rises to his feet, his robe falling open slightly as he towers over the firelight. "I won''t beg." His voice is cold steel now. "But I won''t wait to be next either. Send a raven to the eastern watch. I want every scout watching the border." He turns to the messenger. "Bring me the head of the court mages. Now." The boy bows and bolts from the room. ---- At Blackfall City¡ªthe once-proud heart of Ordeya¡ªits grand palace now sits under a new banner. Silk banners bearing the sigil of Alix''s kingdom hang from towering pillars. The throne chamber is silent, save for the creak of armor and the occasional shallow breath. Alix sits on the high throne, carved from obsidian and veined with crimson light pulsing like a heartbeat. He leans slightly to one side, one hand resting on the armrest, the other draped casually over his leg. His eyes are half-lidded, but sharp with awareness. Before him, kneeling in a line, are Ordeya''s surviving nobles¡ªdukes, barons, aging uncles of Seraphina. The proud bloodline now bowed and trembling. Some dare not even raise their heads. Fear coils through them like smoke, thick and suffocating. Alix speaks. His voice is soft, but it cuts through the silence like a blade. "Raise." The nobles hesitate. Then, slowly, shakily, one by one, they lift their heads and stand, their eyes flicking up to the throne. None dare speak first. Alix studies them in silence for a moment longer, letting the weight of it press down. "You call yourselves the blood of Ordeya," he says, voice calm but charged. "And yet here you are. Kneeling before the very man who shattered your walls." A few flinch. One older noble, perhaps Seraphina''s uncle, clenches his jaw, his pride warring with fear. Alix''s gaze falls on him. "Speak." The man clears his throat, struggling to steady himself. "W-We did not fight you, Your Majesty. We remained in the capital to protect the people... after Queen Seraphina activated the artifact¡ª" "¡ªAnd failed," Alix finishes, tone even. Silence. The nobles lower their gazes again. "But I am not here to waste lives," Alix continues. "I am here to build something stronger. And you"¡ªhis eyes sweep over them¡ª"you will serve me now. Or you will serve no one." A younger noble, perhaps too naive or too desperate, dares a question. "And... what would you have of us, Your Majesty?" Alix smiles faintly. Not cruel¡ªbut cold, resolute. "Loyalty. Obedience." Alix''s gaze lingers on the nobles a moment longer. Then, with calm finality, he says a single word: "Gander." A ripple of unease passes through the nobles as the heavy silence is broken by the soft scrape of metal-tipped claws against polished stone. From the shadows near the side of the throne, a figure emerges¡ªtall, hunched, draped in layers of tattered black and violet robes stitched with bone fragments and dried sinew. His long limbs move with deliberate, unnatural grace. The flickering lantern light reveals pale, papery skin stretched over a wiry frame, bones pressing visibly beneath. Gander''s head is a grotesque mask of patchwork flesh, sewn together with black thread. A rusted bronze circlet floats just above his bald scalp, not touching him, suspended by some unseen force. Where his eyes should be, two small orbs of glowing green mist hover in empty sockets, flickering and pulsing like trapped souls. In his gnarled hand, he clutches a tall staff¡ªits shaft twisted like charred wood, topped by a bleached human skull whose jaw occasionally twitches as if it remembers how to scream. Faint whispers hiss from the skull as Gander moves, in a language no living noble understands. [Status Window ¨C Gander] Race: Unknown Class: Curse Mage Level: 625 Tier: 6 Title: Whisper of Decay Affinity: Necrosis, Binding Rites, Soulbrand The nobles instinctively shrink back as Gander steps into view, the air around him growing colder, heavier. Even the torches dim slightly. Alix gestures lazily toward the nobles without rising. "This is Gander," he says. "One of my most loyal subordinates. He specializes in curses¡ªold, binding ones. The kind that ignore walls, bloodlines, and prayers." Gander stops at the center of the hall. He turns his eyeless gaze toward the nobles, who now stand stiff as statues, sweat beading down their necks. Alix continues, voice smooth as silk drawn over a blade. "Each of you will be marked. It is not pain that comes first¡ªno. Pain comes later. At first, you''ll feel nothing. Perhaps a tug when you lie. A chill when you think of treason. But if you act against me¡ª" He pauses, then finishes coolly. "You''ll die. Swiftly. Horribly. In front of everyone you''ve ever loved." One noble lets out a quiet gasp. Another mutters a prayer under his breath. None dare move. Gander raises his staff, and the skull at its tip groans, its eye sockets alight with malevolent green. "I bind thee," Gander intones, voice rasping like dry leaves dragging across stone. "Soul to oath. Flesh to will. Mind... to consequence." Dark runes flicker to life beneath each noble''s feet, pulsing and climbing up their bodies in jagged, ethereal trails before vanishing beneath the skin. One noble cries out as the curse sears into his flesh¡ªbut Gander does not pause. When the final sigil fades, Gander lowers his staff. Silence falls again. Alix''s voice is calm. "There. Now we understand each other." Chapter 157 159: A Portal To The Unknown Alix lets the silence stretch for a moment longer, eyes narrowing slightly as he watches the nobles shift, unsettled beneath their invisible brands. Then, without looking at them again, he speaks. "You''re dismissed." The nobles nearly trip over themselves in their rush to bow and back away, the polished floor echoing with nervous footsteps. None speak. None look back. As the heavy chamber doors groan shut behind them, sealing their fate under the Curse Mage''s watch, Alix finally turns his head. "Come with me," he says quietly to Gander. The cursed mage inclines his head, the motion eerily smooth, like a marionette guided by invisible strings. He follows as Alix rises from the obsidian throne and strides down the black marble steps, his dark cloak trailing behind him like a shadow laced with embers. They walk through the newly claimed palace, its grandeur now twisted by Alix''s presence. Once-golden banners have been torn down and replaced with black silk marked with the sigil of his rule¡ªan open eye wreathed in thorns. The air still smells faintly of scorched stone and death, remnants of the battle that shattered the capital just yesterday. As they pass through a long corridor, the massive vault doors at the end loom into view¡ªtorn open by Alix earlier in the day, their enchanted locks broken like brittle bone under his power. They step inside the royal treasury. "I got nearly fifty million," Alix murmurs to himself. "And yet..." He glances over his shoulder. "Thirty million was the price to bring Gander back" he thought, and Gander who remains still, his green eye-flames flickering faintly. Alix''s thoughts drift backward¡ªjust a few hours ago. Alix raises a hand. The system''s interface hovers beside him, awaiting the final input. Revive Named Subordinate: Gander Level: 625 Tier: 6 Curse Mage Cost: 30,000,000 Gold Coins Proceed? He doesn''t hesitate. "Proceed." Then a scream. Not from Gander, but from the space around them. Space bends inward as the soul merges with the ritual, flesh growing from air, bones knitting from ash. Smoke and thread stitch his body together¡ªeye-flames returning with a snap of cursed wind. And just like that¡ªhe stands again. Now, back in the present¡ªback in the silent vault where the gold no longer gleams quite as brightly¡ªAlix turns his gaze toward the far wall. "Come," he says quietly to Gander, already striding forward. At first glance, the wall appears unremarkable: smooth obsidian like the rest of the chamber, unbroken by door or handle. But Alix knows better. He found it earlier¡ªa faint draft in a room that shouldn''t breathe, a subtle distortion in mana that whispered of secrets sealed behind stone. He hadn''t had time to open it then. But now? They stop before the section of wall that seems just a little too perfect. Alix lifts his hand, brushing his fingers against the cold surface. "Here," he says. "It''s masked. Illusory layering over enchanted stone. Someone went to great lengths to keep this hidden." Gander steps forward, his long fingers trailing over the wall with delicate precision. His eye-flames narrow slightly. "...Fascinating," he murmurs, voice low and rasping. "This isn''t just a physical barrier. It''s warded with threading seals... and displacement loops. Tier six, almost." Alix raises an eyebrow. "Someone didn''t want this door touched." Gander''s fingers stop near the center of the wall. He leans in, closer than most would dare to get, inhaling deeply through nostrils that are little more than carved slits beneath a web of scarred, sewn flesh. "Only by those with the blood can open it." he says slowly, the word slithering off his tongue like oil. Alix frowns, crossing his arms. "Royal bloodline, then?" Gander nods, his eye-flames flickering with interest. "Yes. And not simply by presence... it requires intent... ritual knowledge. This door doesn''t open by blood alone. It opens by memory¡ªspecific words passed down through generations. A command only the true heirs of Ordeya would know." Alix clicks his tongue. "So, it will be hard to open this." "For most, yes." Gander steps back, his staff tapping lightly against the floor. "But this is a lock, Your Majesty. And locks can be broken." Alix gives him a look¡ªsomewhere between amused and expectant. "Show me." The Curse Mage''s jaw creaks as it opens in a grin too wide for his face. "With pleasure." He plants the staff firmly in front of the door, then raises both hands. The air thickens immediately, as if the very stone begins to resist him. The enchantments flare¡ª glyphs spiraling across the surface in violent protest. The wall doesn''t want to be opened. Gander''s voice cuts through the pressure. "By the Unseen Strings, by bone and curse, I unweave thee..." Runes spring into the air, tangled and writhing, pulled from the locks themselves. The wall groans¡ªnot physically, but spiritually¡ªa sound that resonates deep in the chest. "...By rot of oath and crumbling line, reveal thy truth to not thy kind... but mine." One by one, the seals flicker, then scream. There is no other word for it¡ªthe sound is raw, hollow, ancient. The sigils twist violently before shattering like glass. Black smoke bleeds from the cracks, and the obsidian door trembles, no longer hiding its existence, but pleading not to be touched. "Final layer," Gander says, voice strained now. "It''s anchored to the soul of the founder. They used a soulbrand key. Brilliant." Alix speaks coldly. "Then kill it." Gander slams his staff to the ground, sending a jolt of cursed energy through the floor. The skull at the top lets out a low, warbling groan¡ªand then, with a flash of green fire and a snap of unraveling spirit-twine, the final enchantment shatters. The door howls. The wall pulls itself apart, not sliding or swinging, but disintegrating layer by layer, revealing a dark tunnel descending deeper into the stone. Cold, ancient air rushes out, tasting of old blood and extinguished names. Alix steps forward, peering down into the black. Alix doesn''t pause. He walks into the darkness, boots thudding softly against ancient stone. Gander follows silently, and the air around them grows colder with each step¡ªas if even time itself hesitated to breathe in this place. The tunnel spirals, etched with sigils so old they''ve nearly eroded into meaningless scratches. Here and there, faint lights shimmer. Minutes pass. Maybe more. The silence deepens until even the sound of their steps begins to feel like a violation. Then... a chamber. The walls are cracked and uneven, the ceiling bowed with age, but at the center of the room stands a structure that immediately stops Alix in his tracks. A portal. Barely. It''s a ring of stone, roughly carved and bound in runes that have faded to near-invisibility. The air inside it ripples, sluggish and unstable. Mana sputters along its edges like wet fire. The portal is open, but barely holding. It flickers in and out, as though one breath might cause it to collapse entirely. Alix exhales slowly, lips curling into something between disbelief and disdain. "...This thing is even worse than my blueprints lowest portal." He approaches it, crouching slightly to inspect the base. "Core''s degraded. No stabilizer array. The anchor is leaking into the floor." He taps the rim with a finger¡ªstone chips off at his touch. "How is this thing even still active?" Gander tilts his head, the green flames of his eyes flaring slightly as he surveys the ancient gateway. "It''s not active in the traditional sense," he murmurs. "It''s clinging¡ªa husk of what it was, held together by sheer stubborn magic." Alix rises, brushing his hands off. "It''s a miracle this thing hasn''t collapsed in on itself. If someone actually tried to walk through it like this, they''d be lucky to come out with their bones intact." He turns toward Gander, brow raised. "Can you stabilize it?" Gander doesn''t answer right away. He walks forward slowly, steps deliberate, robes dragging faint dust across the floor. He stops just short of the portal, and lifts a hand. Murmured incantations slip from his mouth, too quiet for the stone to catch. Threads of black mana wind from his fingertips, snaking into the portal''s frame. The unstable shimmer inside the ring flinches, sputters... then settles. The flickering light grows steady. The sputtering hum smooths into a deep, even pulse. Gander lowers his hand. The portal stands¡ªwhole. Alix watches it for a moment longer before speaking. "...That was fast." Gander''s lips twitch into a thin, unsettling smile. "It was never broken. Just abandoned. Left to rot, without fuel, without guidance. All it needed was a command." Alix steps forward, stopping just at the threshold of the now-stable portal. The energy rolls against his skin like warm mist. "Where do you think it goes?" Gander shrugs, the motion unsettling in its fluidity. "Impossible to say, your majesty. It''s not labeled, and the anchors are too weak to trace. But the spell matrix is... purposeful. It was built to go somewhere specific. Not random." Alix narrows his eyes at the portal''s steady hum, then glances sideways at Gander. "Be ready," he says, his voice quiet but firm. "We''re going in." Gander inclines his head once, wordless, and steps to Alix''s side. The portal''s light dances along his stitched features and flickering eye-flames, casting unnatural shadows across the cracked chamber. Alix doesn''t hesitate. He steps through. Light bends. Space folds. Sound evaporates. And then¡ªhe lands. The crunch of leaves beneath his boots surprises him. He straightens quickly, eyes scanning the surroundings. Massive trees tower overhead, their trunks gnarled and roots tangled like veins in the earth. Pale mist clings to the forest floor, swirling slowly around the ankles. Chapter 158 160: Felinari Alix exhales, a little stunned. "...Oh. Wow," he mutters, glancing around again. "That went more smoothly than I expected." He takes a slow step forward, the forest silent except for the faint rustling of unseen branches. No Gander. Alix looks back¡ªthere''s no portal. Just trees. Endless, unbroken trees. His brow furrows. "...Huh." He doesn''t panic. Instead, he touches the space beside him, and the system''s faint interface shimmers into view. Still functional. "Looks like we didn''t arrive together," he mutters. The mist curls a little higher, and somewhere deep in the forest, something cracks¡ªlike a branch under weight. Alix''s eyes sharpen. "Well," he says under his breath, a faint smile playing at the corner of his lips, "guess we find out where the hell I am." Alix rises slightly into the air, cloak whispering against the wind as he hovers just above the treetops. The canopy rustles beneath him¡ªdense, wild, untouched. He narrows his gaze toward the direction of the sound he heard earlier. Another sharp crack cuts through the stillness, closer this time. Alix glides silently toward it, threading through the mist like a ghost. The branches shift and sway beneath his passage, and within moments, he reaches a small clearing tucked between twisted roots and stone outcroppings. His eyes land immediately on the scene below. In the clearing below, surrounded by snarling wolves nearly twice her size, stands a small humanoid girl with tiger-striped skin and a striped tail swaying behind her. Her ears are flattened, claws out, fangs bared in a desperate snarl. She backs up slowly, crouched low with tension coiled in her limbs. The wolves close in, growling low and steady. Foam lines one of their jaws. One lunges. Before it can land, Alix drops. He lands between them in an instant, boots striking the ground with a low, final thud. The force sends a light ripple through the earth, scattering leaves and snapping the momentum of every creature there. The wolves freeze. The girl blinks up at him, eyes wide with shock and something else¡ªconfusion, maybe. Her breath hitches. One of the wolves snarls louder in response, stepping forward. Alix doesn''t move. But his presence does. A pulse of mana, coiling, unnatural, rolls out from him like a wave. The wolves recoil instantly, yelping and backing off, hackles rising. One bolts. The others follow, tails between their legs, vanishing into the misty woods without a second thought. Silence returns. Alix finally turns around. The tiger girl''s breathing is shallow. Her tail flicks. She crouches like she''s ready to run, muscles trembling¡ªbut she doesn''t. Alix meets her gaze, then lowers himself to a knee, just enough so he''s not towering. "You alright?" he asks, voice even. She blinks rapidly, then gives a quick, hesitant nod. "Y-Yeah... I think so." Alix watches her for a moment, letting her catch her breath. Her body''s still coiled like a spring, but her eyes are clearer now¡ªsharp, wary, alive. "What''s your name?" he asks, calm and direct. She hesitates, clearly debating whether to answer. Then, perhaps deciding she owes him at least that much, she mutters, "Ruva." Alix nods once. "Ruva," he repeats, then glances to the side as he calls up the interface with a flick of thought. The translucent screen flickers into view, shimmering just out of Ruva''s line of sight. He narrows his eyes, focusing on her presence¡ªand the system responds instantly, runes aligning into a compact, glowing profile. Name: Ruva Race: Felinari Level: 201 Status: Wounded, Mana Depleted Affinity: Wind Alix tilts his head slightly as he reads the display, a flicker of interest lighting behind his eyes. Tier 2 already, he thinks. And that young... Interesting. He lets the interface fade and turns his full attention back to her. Her small hands are clenched at her sides, but she''s not shaking anymore. Just watching him, guarded. "What were you doing out here?" Alix asks gently. Ruva stiffens. Her ears droop a little, and her mouth opens like she''s about to answer¡ªbut then her eyes well up with sudden tears. "I... I-I don''t know," she chokes out, voice cracking. "I just ran. Last night, my village¡ªthere was fire. I woke up and everything was burning. I couldn''t find anyone. I just... ran..." She hiccups, rubbing at her face with the back of her wrist. Alix''s expression softens. "Oh..." he murmurs, the sound more like a breath than a word. His posture eases. Then, suddenly¡ªgrowl. The sound is soft, almost comically so¡ªbut it cuts through the silence like a stone dropped in still water. Ruva freezes. Her stomach growls again, louder this time, and her ears flatten against her head in pure embarrassment. Her face flushes as she curls slightly inward, trying to pretend like it didn''t happen. Alix raises an eyebrow, then lets out a quiet chuckle. He shifts, reaching into the folds of his cloak. "Are you hungry?" he asks, his voice warm now, coaxing. A small smile touches his lips¡ªjust enough to ease the tension, to remind her he''s not a threat. Ruva looks up at him warily, then gives the smallest nod. "...A little." "I''ve got something here," Alix says, pulling out a wrapped ration¡ªsimple, compact, but more than enough for a starving kid. He kneels again and holds it out slowly, letting her see it before offering it forward. "It''s not fancy, but it''s warm." Ruva stares at it for a second like she''s not sure it''s real. Then, cautiously, she creeps forward on all fours, eyes flicking between the food and Alix''s face. Her claws gently take the package from his hand, and she hugs it close before unwrapping it like it''s some sacred treasure. She doesn''t speak, but the way she devours the first few bites says everything. Alix watches quietly, then leans back on one knee, arms resting across his leg. "Take your time," he says softly, gaze drifting toward the trees. "You''re safe now." And for the first time since she appeared, Ruva''s tail gives a small, slow flick. Not in fear. But relief. When the last bite is gone, Ruva sits back on her heels, licking a crumb from her thumb. Her posture is less tight now¡ªshoulders lower, tail relaxed against the forest floor. She looks at Alix, not quite smiling, but no longer afraid. Alix studies her face for a moment, then speaks gently. "Ruva... do you remember where your village is?" She hesitates, biting her lip. Her eyes drop to the ground. "Mister," she says quietly, "are you going to help me?" Alix blinks. Then, with a faint, lopsided grin, he nods. "Yeah. I am." Her eyes flicker up, just a little wider. "We''ll go check your village," Alix continues, standing now and offering a hand down to her. "See if anyone else made it out. Alright?" Ruva hesitates for a breath¡ªthen her small hand slips into his. Alix squeezes gently. "And one more thing," he adds. "Stop calling me ''Mister.'' Makes me feel old." She tilts her head, confused. "Then... what should I call you?" Alix smirks. "Call me Big Brother Alix. Got it?" Her ears twitch. "Big brother...?" He nods once, confident. "That''s right." For the first time, Ruva''s lips curl into a tiny, shy smile. "...Okay. Big Brother Alix." Alix ruffles her hair with one hand, making her let out a small, startled sound, but she doesn''t pull away. "Good. Let''s go." He glances toward the forest. "Lead the way if you can. We''ll find what''s left¡ªtogether." The forest gives way to the charred edge of a clearing as they move. Ruva walks beside him, her hand still gripping his loosely. The air grows heavier the closer they get. Ruva''s steps slow. When the first broken fence post comes into view¡ªsplintered and blackened¡ªAlix''s expression hardens. Then, past it, the village opens up. What''s left of it. Alix stopped, Ruva stops beside him. She doesn''t speak. Her eyes go wide, and her tail droops flat against the back of her legs. Alix takes a breath, then turns slightly. His voice is low, but firm. "Ruva. Stay here." She doesn''t move. "Let me go first. I''ll check if it''s safe." Alix says, gentler now. But her voice cuts in before he can take a step. "Can I come with you, big brother." She says it quietly, but there''s a tremor in her tone¡ªlike she''s holding something back. Alix turns to her fully. She clenches her small fists at her sides, jaw tight. "I need to see. I have to see if my parents are still here." For a long moment, Alix doesn''t speak. He watches her¡ªhow her shoulders shake even as she stands her ground. How her claws dig slightly into her palms, holding back whatever pain is building. Then, slowly, he nods. "Alright," he says quietly. "But stay close to me." Ruva gives a shaky nod. "Okay." Alix reaches out, brushing his hand over the top of her head again¡ªgentler this time. "Come on," he murmurs. "Let''s go find them." They step into the village. Or what''s left of it. The ashes are cold now. The fires have long since died, but the smell lingers¡ªsmoke and charred wood, something acrid underneath. Bones and blackened debris litter the pathways. Cracked pots. Collapsed roofs. A single wooden toy, half-burned, lies beside what might''ve once been a doorstep. Ruva walks in silence. She pauses in front of a small home. What''s left of it is barely standing¡ªwalls caved inward, roof mostly gone. "...This was aunty Yules family''s house," she says softly, voice flat. "They had two kids. Little twins. I used to play with them..." She takes a step forward and stops, staring at something in the rubble. Her breath catches. Alix follows her gaze¡ªand sees them. Two small bodies, curled up against each other, as if they''d been hiding. As if they were hoping the fire would pass them by. Chapter 159 - 161: Ruvas Grief As they move deeper into the village, the destruction shifts¡ªless random, more violent. Not just fire. Not just panic. The ground is scored with claw marks. Stone walls are dented inward, blood smeared in streaks. A broken spear lies half-buried in the mud. The remains of some creature¡ªtwisted, too many limbs¡ªare crushed under a collapsed roof. Alix narrows his eyes. This wasn''t just a raid. It was a battle. A real one. His gaze traces the shattered remains of stone, the deep gashes in metal, the faint traces of lingering mana scorched into the ground like scars. "Tier 3," he murmurs, crouching near a split beam, then frowning as his fingers brush a groove carved straight through it. "No... Tier 4." Ruva doesn''t respond. She''s gone quiet again, taking it all in with wide, numb eyes. Her hands tremble, and her steps are hesitant, like her body knows what her heart refuses to believe. They round a bend, and the largest building comes into view. Or what''s left of it. The great hall at the center of the village¡ªonce a gathering place, maybe a place of pride¡ªnow leans crooked, its roof caved in, walls split open like something tore its way straight through. The ground outside is scorched and cracked, like someone detonated magic mid-fight. Alix''s brow tightens. He steps forward slowly, scanning the wreckage. Then Ruva gasps. Her hand slips from his. "Papa!" she screams¡ªand bolts. "Ruva¡ª!" But she''s already running, bare feet slapping against the scorched earth, straight toward one of the broken walls. Alix surges after her. And then he sees it. Half-buried in the collapsed structure, pinned beneath the debris¡ªthere''s a man. A Felinari, striped like Ruva, broader in frame. His body is slumped, still. Blood darkens his side. His arm is flung outward, claws dulled and coated in soot. His eyes are half-open, unseeing. Ruva crashes to her knees beside him. "Papa...?" Her voice breaks. "Papa, no, no, no¡ªwake up¡ªplease¡ª!" She shakes him. Once. Twice. Her claws grip his tunic, and she buries her face against his chest. He already knows. There''s no breath. No pulse. Just the scent of dried blood and the lingering tension of a warrior who never had the chance to finish his last fight. "Big Brother..." Ruva sobs. "He was trying to protect the village. I know he was. He¡ªhe always said he would..." She leans forward again, curling beside the body, her small frame shaking with grief. Alix stays by her side, silent but solid¡ªhis presence the only thing anchoring her in the moment. The wind stirs through the ruined walls, carrying the scent of ash and memory. Alix closes his eyes briefly. Ruva sits with her knees drawn up, arms wrapped around herself. Her eyes are red and swollen, but dry now. The grief hasn''t vanished¡ªit never does¡ªbut it''s no longer a tidal wave. Just something heavy. Settled. Alix watches her, arms folded loosely across his chest, and says nothing. She needs this moment. To breathe. To stand back up. Slowly, Ruva rises to her feet, wiping her face with the back of her hand. Her voice is hoarse, but steady when she speaks. "...Big Brother." Alix lifts his gaze. "I want to find my mama," she says. "And... and bury them all together. Please." Alix straightens, his expression softening. She''s fifteen, and yet¡ªshe''s facing this like someone twice her age. He nods once, firmly. "Let''s do that then." Ruva blinks, surprised by how fast he agreed. "No one should be left alone," Alix adds. "And your dad would want that, wouldn''t he?" Alix walks over and places a hand on her shoulder. "Lead the way, Ruva. I''ll be right behind you." She looks up at him, then turns toward the rest of the ruins, scanning what remains of the village. Her eyes settle on a smaller path¡ªpartially blocked by debris. "She... she always liked to sit near the old garden," Ruva says quietly. "She said the flowers made the food taste better when she cooked..." "Then we start there," Alix replies. "Let''s bring her home." The old garden is barely recognizable¡ªmost of the herbs have been scorched to ash, and the fence is shattered. But the stones are still there. The path. And by one of the overturned benches, they find her. Ruva doesn''t scream this time. She just drops to her knees beside the still form, brushing soot and debris from her mother''s fur. There''s blood, dried around the edge of her clothes, and the peacefulness on her face only makes it worse. "She must''ve been trying to get to the shelter..." Ruva murmurs, voice tight. Alix kneels beside her and lowers his head for a moment of silence. Then he rises, and raises a hand. Soft blue light begins to glow at his fingertips. "Gathering Wind," he whispers. The wind stirs, swirling with purpose. It moves like a current through the ruins, sweeping gently through the village. Ash and debris shift, then lift¡ªclearing a path. From every corner of the village, broken bodies begin to rise, cradled in streams of magic. One by one, the lost are gathered. Ruva watches, wide-eyed, as Alix brings them together in the clearing beside the village''s old shrine¡ªa small, half-burned structure still standing, like it had weathered the storm for this very purpose. Together, they dig. It takes time. Alix uses magic to shape the earth. Ruva insists on placing the bodies herself¡ªher mother, her father, the twins, her neighbors. All of them. Carefully. Respectfully. And when it''s done, they stand in silence. The wind stills. "...Thank you," Ruva says quietly, her hands clasped in front of her. "Ruva," he says, voice gentle, "is there another village nearby? One you were on good terms with? Somewhere safe?" Ruva nods slowly, her ears flicking once. "Yeah..." she says. "It''s northeast, near the river bend. About half a day if we walk steady." She looks up at him, brushing a strand of ash-smeared hair from her face. "Their whole village is Lamari. You know, the horned ones? Real quiet but strong. They used to trade with us all the time¡ªfruits, dried roots, even medicine sometimes. My mama liked them. Said they were honest folk." Alix watches her for a moment, then asks, "So your village and theirs... allies?" Ruva nods again, firmer this time. "Yeah. Not just friendly. We looked out for each other," she says. "When the winter hit hard last year, we shared grain. And when they had a fire¡ªsmall one¡ªwe sent wood and blankets. It''s not official or anything, but it''s real. You know?" Alix nods, his gaze turning briefly toward the treeline, the fading sunlight casting long shadows over the graves. "Good," he says. "We''ll head there next. If they''re the kind to share food and trust, they''re the kind who might help you." Ruva tilts her head. "And what about you?" Alix glances down at her. "I''ll stay long enough to make sure they open the gate. After that... we''ll see." "Okay, but..." Ruva doesn''t finish her sentence. She lowers her gaze instead, the rest of the words caught in her throat, and just nods. They walk in silence after that. And by midday, the trees thin again, revealing carved wooden totems lining a narrow path. Strange but elegant designs¡ªhorns spiraling upward, woven into symbols of the moon and river. Ahead, built into the gently rising hills, the Lamari village finally comes into view. It''s quiet. Watchful. The buildings are shaped from smooth stone and pale timber, rounded like shells, nestled into the land. A stream runs through the center, feeding small gardens. As they step onto the main path, a figure drops from the nearest ledge¡ªtall, broad, and unmistakably Lamari. Curved horns sweep back from his head, and his dark eyes narrow as he holds up a hand. "That''s far enough," he says, voice calm but firm. "State your name and¡ª" His words cut off mid-sentence. "Wait. Is that...?" His eyes widen as he steps closer, peering at the girl beside Alix. His mouth opens slightly, like he doesn''t believe it. "Little Ruva?" he says, breath hitching. "By the river spirits¡ªyou''re alive?!" Ruva blinks, startled. "... Big brother Miro?" Before she can say more, the Lamari lets out a shout, turning his head toward the village. "She''s alive! There''s a survivor from the Felinari tribe¡ªRuva''s alive!" Voices rise in the distance. More Lamari begin to appear¡ªsome from the homes, others from the upper paths. All of them turn toward the sound, and when they see Ruva standing there, the quiet village erupts in movement. A pair of older Lamari rush down the path. One of them, an elder with moss-green robes and a carved walking staff, pushes forward. "Let them through," he says sharply. "That girl has seen fire and ruin. We welcome her, as we did before." Miro nods and steps aside, his expression still stunned. "Of course, Elder. Sorry." Ruva clutches the edge of Alix''s cloak. The village welcomes them in silence and warmth¡ªno loud cheers, no questions¡ªjust quiet, knowing glances and gentle hands that reach out to touch Ruva''s shoulder as she passes. She''s offered food, a place to sit, blankets. But she doesn''t let go of Alix. Not until night falls, and the village elder invites them into his home to speak in private. After a long conversation¡ªone filled with careful questions, quiet nods, and promises of protection¡ªAlix makes his decision. Outside, under the silver light of the moon, the wind is soft. The trees hum with distant insects. The village is calm now. She stands beside Alix at the edge of the elder''s home, her hands clenched at her sides. Her eyes are red again. Chapter 160 - 162: Lord Astram "You''re really gonna leave me here," she says, voice low, like saying it aloud makes it real. Alix turns to her, eyes gentle. He reaches out and rests a hand on her head, ruffling her hair slightly. "For now," he says quietly. "I still have something I need to do. Something I can''t bring you into." Ruva''s gaze drops. Her voice cracks just a little. "But what if you don''t come back?" "I will," Alix says, firm. "I promise you, Ruva. Once I''m done... I''ll come get you." She bites her lip, silent for a moment. Then¡ªfinally¡ªshe nods. Slowly. Alix reaches into his coat and pulls something out: a small, polished charm. A crescent-shaped stone woven with strands of silver thread and wrapped in pale ribbon. Alix kneels down to her level and presses it into her hands carefully. "Listen, Ruva," he says, voice low and serious. "If you ever find yourself in real danger¡ªwhere you can''t run, break this. Just snap it in two." Ruva stares at the charm, wide-eyed. Her fingers curl instinctively around it. "What... what will it do?" she asks, her voice trembling. Alix gives a small, reassuring smile. "It''ll summon a beast. A beast, bound to the charm, will come to protect you. It won''t stop until you''re safe." Ruva''s breath catches. She clutches the charm tighter, like it''s the most precious thing in the world. "A real beast?" she whispers. "Stronger," Alix says softly. "This one''s loyal to you. But you have to be careful. Only use it if it''s truly life or death, understand?" Ruva nods furiously, her eyes shining again, though she blinks them dry. "I understand, Big Brother." Alix rises to his feet, resting a hand briefly on her head one last time. "You''re brave, Ruva. Braver than most grown warriors I''ve met." His voice drops even lower, almost a whisper. "I''m proud of you." That''s what finally breaks her. She throws her arms around him, clinging tight. Alix hesitates just a second, then wraps his arms around her in return. "You''re not alone," he says. "Not ever." After a long moment, she pulls back, sniffing hard, and nods again. The elder of the Lamari steps forward, his expression kind but firm. "Come, child. You''ll be safe here." Ruva hesitates, looking once more at Alix. He gives her a small smile and a nod. "Go on," he says. "I''ll find you soon." With one last look, Ruva turns and walks toward the village elder. The Lamari close around her like a protective wall, guiding her inside. Alix watches until she disappears from sight. Then, without a word, he turns. Alix walks away from the village. He doesn''t look back. Not until the last rooftop is hidden by the trees. Only then does he stop. A faint breeze stirs his cloak. Without hesitation, he gathers mana under his feet¡ªlight and force wrapping around him¡ªand pushes off the ground. The world falls away beneath him. He soars up into the open sky, rising above the treetops, higher still until the village becomes a quiet mark on the land below. Up here, it''s just him and the wind. Alix exhales slowly, letting the cold air clear his mind. His gaze drifts over the endless stretch of forest, the river winding like a silver thread, the mountains distant on the horizon. "She''s strong," he mutters to himself, voice barely louder than the wind. "Stronger than I was at her age." For a moment, he closes his eyes. Memories¡ªunwanted but familiar¡ªflicker at the edges of his mind. A cold room. Empty streets. Silence. The loneliness that clung to him like a second skin when he was just a boy. No one to reach out a hand. No one to promise they''d come back. After a moment, he tilts forward, mana surging again. His figure cuts through the sky like a silent arrow, vanishing into the clouds. The clouds whip past him, mist clinging to his cloak as he flies. The land stretches out below like an endless patchwork¡ªforests, rivers, valleys. Dotted across it, here and there, are villages and small towns. Alix slows slightly, gliding lower to get a better look. At first, he thinks he''s just imagining it. But the closer he gets, the clearer it becomes. Every settlement he passes... every bustling street, every marketplace... They''re all monsters. Wolf-headed beastkin laugh and haul crates. Tall, horned creatures haggle over fruit. Scaled merchants bark out deals, children with claws and wings dart between stalls. No humans. Not a single one. Alix narrows his eyes. He adjusts his flight, angling higher, letting the wind carry him. "Is this place... all monsters?" he mutters to himself. His voice gets lost in the rushing air, but the question hangs heavy in his mind. He flies further, scanning every town he passes. Still no humans. Not even half-bloods, from what he can tell. "I need to figure out where I am," Alix says. He pulls his hood a little lower over his face, shielding his features. "I need a real city," he decides aloud. "A place with information. Maps. Rumors." His mana flares again, subtle but strong, as he picks up speed. Somewhere out there, there''s got to be a major city. A place big enough to answer the questions burning at the back of his mind. After some time, the sprawling outline of a city appears on the horizon. Tall stone walls gleam faintly under the sun, with wide gates flanked by towering statues of armored beasts. Smoke curls lazily from dozens of chimneys, and even from the sky, Alix can hear the muted clamor of life beyond the walls. "There," he mutters. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Finally." He angles his descent, careful to land a good distance away. No need to attract attention. His boots hit the earth with a soft thud. Dust stirs at his feet. Pulling his cloak tighter around himself, Alix sets off toward the gates on foot. As he approaches, he falls in line behind a small crowd¡ªbeastfolk merchants hauling goods, heavily armored adventurers, a few caravan wagons creaking forward. When he reaches the front, a guard steps into his path. The guard is a hulking figure, scales glinting under battered armor. A long tail flicks lazily behind him, and a thick ledger is tucked under one arm. "Entrance fee," the guard grunts, voice rough. "Ten silver coins." Alix blinks, mildly surprised. Ten silvers? For entrance? Considering twenty silver coins make one gold, it''s a heavy toll for common folk. But to him? It''s nothing. Without a word, Alix reaches into his coat and pulls out a small pouch. He fishes out ten silver coins and drops them into the guard''s outstretched hand. The coins jingle lightly, the sound sharp against the background noise. The guard raises an eyebrow but says nothing, only nodding once. "Behave yourself inside," he rumbles, stepping aside. "And don''t cause trouble. Especially you outsiders." Alix gives a simple nod, his expression unreadable beneath his hood. "I''ll keep that in mind," he says lightly, his tone polite but distant. The massive gates creak open just wide enough for him to slip through. And with that, Alix steps into the city¡ªhis first real foothold in this strange new land. Alix strides through the bustling streets, his sharp eyes scanning everything¡ªthe towering stone buildings, the market stalls crammed with strange goods, the mix of monsterfolk going about their day. If I want to get information quickly... he thinks, the Adventurers'' Guild is my best bet. He blends into the flow of the crowd, moving with quiet purpose. It doesn''t take long to find it¡ªa wide, sturdy building with a heavy oak door, a faded banner above it bearing a sword and claw symbol intertwined. Pushing the door open, he steps inside. The inside of the guild is lively. Rough laughter and the clatter of mugs echo through the wide hall. Different kinds of monsters sit at long tables¡ªhorned, winged, scaled, furred¡ªsome in full armor, others dressed casually. A huge board at the far end is covered in papers: job requests, bounties, hunting missions. No one spares Alix more than a passing glance. Just another cloaked figure among many. He finds a corner table and settles down, letting the noisy atmosphere wash over him. A server¡ªa slim, cat-eared girl¡ªcomes by with a worn notepad. "What''ll you have?" she asks, flicking her tail lazily. "Something hot," Alix says. "And a drink." She nods and disappears into the crowd. Alix leans back, one arm draped casually over the back of his chair, listening. Before long, his food arrives¡ªa steaming stew and a mug of something dark and strong-smelling. He''s barely taken his first bite when a conversation from a nearby table catches his ear. "Hey, you hear about that new Tier 6?" one of the monsters says¡ªa burly, lion-headed beastman, his voice carrying easily over the noise. "The one that''s been challenging Lord Astram?" Alix stills, listening closely. "No way," another voice scoffs¡ªthis one sharper, belonging to a sleek, lizard-like creature. "Lord Astram''s been leading this continent for almost fifty years now. Ain''t nobody stupid enough to go picking a fight with him." "I''m serious!" the lion-man insists, thumping his mug down. "Word is, some unknown showed up outta nowhere. Kill two of Astram''s subordinates already!" Across from him, a bat-winged woman whistles low. "If that''s true... either that guy''s got a death wish or he''s the real deal." The lizard-man leans in, lowering his voice a little. "Tch. Doesn''t matter. Lord Astram''s a monster among monsters. Doesn''t matter if you''re Tier 6. You stand against him, you''re dead." The group mutters agreement, though a few look uneasy. Chapter 161 - 163: Ember Claw Group Alix wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, stands up slowly, and walks toward their table. The group goes quiet as he approaches, their gazes sharpening. Without a word, Alix pulls a gleaming gold coin from his pouch and sets it lightly on their table. "Gentlemen," Alix says smoothly, his voice calm and clear. "Would you mind telling me more about this Lord Astram?" The gold coin spins slightly before settling. A few of the monsters glance at each other, clearly tempted. But at the same time, they look confused¡ªalmost suspicious. The lion-headed beastman squints at him. "You serious?" he says. "You don''t know about Lord Astram?" Another, a bear-like brute, leans forward, frowning. "Where the hell are you from, stranger?" Alix offers a faint, easy smile. "Not from around here. Came from the other continent. I don''t know much about this land yet." There''s a beat of silence. Then the bat-winged woman laughs softly, a little bitter. "Figures," she says, shaking her head. "Only someone from outside wouldn''t know. Most folks here wouldn''t even dare say his name so casual." The lizard-man snorts, picking up the gold coin and tossing it once in his hand before tucking it into his belt. "You shouldn''t have come here, outsider," he says grimly. "This continent''s not like the ones across the sea. Used to be peaceful... but now?" He leans back, his tail flicking agitatedly. "Now it''s chaos. Been like this for years. There''s a group¡ªsome call ''em the ''Ember Claw''¡ªthey''ve been fighting against Lord Astram''s rule. Little skirmishes, assassinations, attacks on supply routes. Real thorn in his side." "But," the lion-headed man cuts in, his voice dropping to a rough whisper, "that ain''t the scary part." Alix raises an eyebrow. "Go on." The bat-winged woman glances around quickly, making sure no guild officials are eavesdropping, then leans in. "A week ago, someone new showed up," she says. "Not part of the Rebels. Not part of any known group. Just... appeared. Started wrecking Astram''s forces like they were nothing. Hit three forts in a week. Killed a general in single combat. Whole damn continent''s talking about it." The bear-like one growls low in his throat. "And Astram? He ain''t used to being challenged. That lord... he''s ruled here with iron claws for damn near fifty years. Ain''t nobody ever dared stand against him and lived long enough to brag." Alix leans slightly closer, his voice low and thoughtful. "What do they call this new person?" The monsters look at each other again, hesitating. Then the lizard-man shrugs. "Don''t got a real name. Some call him ''The Ghost.'' Others say ''The Plaque.'' Depends who you ask. Moves too fast. Hits too hard. No one''s even gotten a clear look at him yet." "And you think..." Alix murmurs, "this Ghost is strong enough to beat Astram?" The lion-headed man lets out a rough chuckle. "Maybe. Or maybe he''ll just piss Astram off enough to tear half the continent apart hunting him down." "One thing''s for sure," the bear-man rumbles. "Big changes are coming. Blood''s gonna flow either way." Alix sits back slightly, taking it all in. A small, almost imperceptible smile plays at the corner of his mouth. "Interesting," he says softly. The bat-winged woman eyes him curiously. "You planning to stick around, outsider?" Alix stands, pulling his cloak tighter around him. His shadow falls across their table like a dark wing. "For a while," he says simply. And without another word, he turns and walks back to his seat. Alix sits down again, his hand idly stirring the untouched mug of dark liquor in front of him. His eyes narrow slightly in thought. I''m a hundred percent sure the "plaque" they''re talking about is Gander, he thinks. His fingers tap lightly on the wooden table, a steady rhythm. Lowly, under his breath, he mutters, "This is interesting... Gander arrived a week earlier than me." He leans back in his chair, staring up at the rough wooden beams overhead. We both went through that portal at the same time, he muses. But... it wasn''t exactly in good condition after all. Must''ve thrown him out earlier. The corner of his mouth tightens. Gander''s reckless, but he''s not stupid. If he''s causing that much trouble already, he''s got a plan... Alix exhales slowly. First things first. He needs to go to the city where this Astram lives. He glances over at the group he spoke to earlier. They''re back to drinking and whispering among themselves, occasionally shooting glances toward the job board. Alix pushes himself up and walks back toward them, keeping his approach casual. The lion-headed man notices him first, giving a wary grunt. "Need somethin'' else, outsider?" "Yeah," Alix says, voice calm. "I need directions. Where''s the city where Lord Astram lives?" The group exchanges looks again. This time, there''s a note of caution in their eyes. "You serious?" the bat-winged woman says. "You really planning on going there?" Alix simply nods. The lizard-man huffs a sharp breath, scratching the back of his scaly neck. "You''re crazy. But..." He grabs a scrap of parchment from the table, dips a claw into an inkpot, and quickly sketches a rough map. "Follow the main road east for about four days. You''ll hit a fork near an old broken statue. Take the north path. It''ll lead you through Blackthorn Pass. Dangerous, though. Bandits, monsters, worse." He taps the map. "Keep going until you see the white cliffs. Astram''s capital sits right against ''em. Big city. You can''t miss it. Name''s Velzar." Alix takes the parchment and folds it neatly, slipping it into his cloak. "Thanks," he says, giving a slight nod. "Don''t thank us," the bear-like brute mutters. "If you''re going there... better pray you don''t run into Astram''s enforcers." Alix''s lips curve into a faint, almost amused smile. "I''ll manage." Without wasting another second, he turns and heads for the door. The guild hall''s noise fades behind him as he steps out into the cool evening air. The sky is bruised purple with the coming night. Alix pulls his cloak tighter, feeling the weight of the parchment against his chest, and sets off eastward. His footsteps steady. Unhurried. Two days pass in a blur of sky and clouds. Alix flies high and fast, not bothering with the roads the lizard-man marked for him. Blackthorn Pass, bandits, monsters ¡ª he''s not interested in wasting time. Every now and then he spots something moving below, skirmishes on dusty trails, columns of soldiers marching ¡ª but none of it matters. His goal lies straight ahead. By the time he reaches the white cliffs, the sun is dipping low, bathing the horizon in molten gold. And there it is. Velzar. Alix hovers for a moment, taking it in. Massive black walls ring the city, thick enough that siege weapons would barely scratch them. Spires of dark stone and gleaming metal pierce the sky like jagged teeth. Airships drift lazily around the highest towers, guarded by flying beasts he doesn''t immediately recognize. Even from here, the city feels... heavy. He lowers himself toward a side gate, avoiding the main entrance. After a little fast-talking and flashing an adventurer''s badge, he''s let through without too much trouble. Inside, the difference hits him immediately. The density... Alix thinks, eyes scanning the crowded streets. Everywhere he looks, powerful monsters move through the city like it''s normal. Tier 4 monsters ¡ª things that would''ve been a major threat back on the three kingdoms continent ¡ª are as common here as cabbage sellers in a market. Tier 5s, too, just walking around, fully armored or wrapped in thick enchanted cloaks. He steps aside as a group of armored enforcers march past ¡ª all of them Tier 4 at least and one tier 5 leading them¡ª each carrying black halberds engraved with a burning sun motif. One of them, a hulking boar-headed warrior, catches Alix watching and grunts, "Move along. Don''t gawk unless you want trouble." The enforcer snorts and keeps moving, the squad vanishing down a side alley like a metal storm. Alix slips into the crowd, keeping his steps light, his presence low. Gander probably isn''t in this city, he thinks, slipping past a fruit cart without so much as a glance. If he was nearby, that item I have would''ve picked up his signal by now. He taps the small silver badge tucked safely under his cloak. Silent. No pulse, no glow. Nothing. Means he''s either too far... or underground enough to hide even from this. Alix exhales through his nose and heads toward the biggest building he can see aside from the central tower ¡ª a sprawling stone structure marked with the familiar crossed-sword-and-scroll insignia: the Adventurers'' Guild. The inside is as chaotic as he expects. A wide, open hall filled with roaring fires, dozens of wooden tables, and adventurers of every monstrous shape and size. Huge notice boards line the walls, plastered thick with missions and bounty postings. Some are stained with old blood. No one seems to care. Alix moves toward one of the mission boards. His eyes scan quickly. Hunt down a group of rebels spotted near the river... Escort a supply convoy through Blackthorn Pass... Guard a noble''s estate from rebel sympathizers... Most of the missions seem focused on a single enemy: the rebels. And then he sees it. A new notice, still crisp compared to the older, weathered postings: [URGENT MISSION ¡ª REBEL STRONGHOLD LOCATED Group identified as the Ember Claw. Destroy hideout located in the Ashen Woods. High reward. Bonus for confirmed rebel commander kills. Applicants must be Tier 4 or higher. Contact Officer Marn at the mission desk.] Chapter 162 164: Three Tier 5 Monster Alix plucks the parchment from the board, reading it over again slowly. A deep voice rumbles beside him. "You lookin'' to die?" Alix glances sideways. A thickly built reptilian adventurer ¡ª probably a Crocodilian-type monster ¡ª stands there, arms crossed, jagged teeth flashing in a grim smile. His scales shimmer dark green under the lantern light. "Everyone who''s gone after the Ember Claw lately," the Crocodilian says, jerking his thumb at the board, "ain''t come back. Place is a meat grinder. Even Tier 5s been havin'' trouble." Alix folds the notice neatly and tucks it into his belt. His voice is calm. "I''ll manage." The Crocodilian chuckles, a dry, rattling sound. "Suit yourself. You got guts. Maybe no brains, but guts." Alix tilts his head slightly. "You know anything about this hideout?" The reptilian scratches his snout thoughtfully. "Only that the Ashen Woods ain''t right anymore. Used to be just another forest. Now? Magic''s thick in the air. Real bad stuff. Word is, the Ember Claw''s been diggin'' in deep. Traps, sentries, wards. The usual rebel shit ¡ª but worse." He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. "And rumor is... they got a new leader. Some real nasty piece of work. Strong. Real strong. Even the enforcers are nervous." Alix''s eyes narrow slightly. New leader? The Crocodilian pulls away, laughing. "Anyway. Good luck. If you come back in one piece, drinks are on me." Alix offers a faint smile. "I''ll hold you to that." ----- Alix stands at the entrance to the Ashen Woods. Gray mist clings low to the ground, swirling in unnatural patterns as if alive. The trees loom tall and skeletal, their bark blackened like charred bone. The air itself feels wrong ¡ª heavy, thick, almost oily against the skin. Whispers drift between the branches, soft at first, then growing louder the deeper he peers inside. Alix watches the forest quietly, his cloak fluttering lightly in the cold, stagnant breeze. What that Crocodilian said... he thinks, eyes narrowing. It''s even worse than he made it sound. The soil at the forest''s edge is a sickly, grayish black, cracked like dying skin. Strange fungal growths sprout along the roots, pulsing faintly as if breathing. Farther in, he catches glimpses of moving shadows ¡ª things that shouldn''t even exist ¡ª twitching and shuffling between the trees. Most people would have turned around already. Maybe even run. Alix simply steps forward, unbothered. He raises his left hand briefly, feeling the cool, subtle weight of the Null Ring resting against his finger. A divine artifact ¡ª small, unassuming, but utterly priceless. With it, curses, poisons, diseases ¡ª even most magical corruption under divine-tier ¡ª wash off him like water against stone. Alix exhales once, steady, and walks straight into the mists. Immediately, the unnatural pressure tries to settle on him ¡ª claws of invisible sickness reaching for his mind, his body, his spirit. But the Null Ring flashes a faint pulse of silvery light. The poison seeps away. The curses crackle and vanish. The diseased air splits harmlessly around him. Nice try, he thinks, pushing deeper. His senses stay sharp. Even though the corruption can''t touch him, the dangers here are still real ¡ª physical traps, ambushes, enemy scouts. And if the Ember Claw rebels have fortified this place, then they''re bound to have monsters loyal to them lurking somewhere close. Minutes pass. The mist curls tighter around Alix, muffling even the sound of his own footsteps. Then ¡ª a flicker of movement. Alix''s body shifts instinctively. A sharp blur cuts through the mist ¡ª fast, aimed straight for his throat. A blade? A claw? Alix''s hand moves even faster, snapping up and catching the strike effortlessly. It''s a clawed hand, thick with scales, the owner hidden by the haze. The impact rattles the air, sending a small shockwave through the fog. Alix doesn''t even flinch. A low growl follows, and from the mist, two more figures burst forth ¡ª one from the left, another from above. No hesitation, no words ¡ª just clean, practiced violence. Three tier 5. He can feel it in the pressure of their auras, heavy and vicious. Still holding the first attacker by the wrist, Alix tilts his head slightly, voice calm and almost bored. "Finally," he says, his tone edged with faint amusement. "You all decided to come out." He throws the trapped attacker back with casual force ¡ª the figure crashes into a tree with a sharp crack of splintering wood. Alix straightens, brushing invisible dust from his cloak. His crimson eyes gleam faintly in the dim light. "I was getting bored out here," he adds, voice carrying through the mist like a blade. The two new enemies land lightly a few paces away, snarling. Now that they are visible, Alix gets a better look. One is a tall, lean creature ¡ª almost feline ¡ª with sleek black fur and molten yellow eyes. Wickedly curved blades sprout from its arms like natural weapons. The other is a hunched, armored beast, more insect than man, with chitinous plates covering its body and twin scythe-like limbs twitching in anticipation. The first attacker ¡ª the one he threw aside ¡ª stands up, shaking off the impact. It''s a reptilian, larger than the Crocodilian at the guild, with horned scales and a whip-like tail lashing behind him. All three radiate killing intent. All three are staring at Alix with open hostility. "You shouldn''t have come here," the feline one growls, voice rough like gravel. The insectoid creature clicks its mandibles together in agreement, the sound sharp and rapid. "You walked into your grave," the reptilian hisses, baring rows of serrated teeth. Alix rolls his shoulders once, a slow, deliberate movement. The Null Ring gleams dully on his finger. Alix lifts a hand lazily, as if brushing aside their threats. "Well," he says, voice light, "I''m not really here to fight you guys." The three monsters stiffen slightly, exchanging quick glances through the mist. Alix''s faint smile widens a fraction. "In fact," he continues, "I was thinking... maybe I could join your good deeds. You know ¡ª do my part for the cause." For a moment, there''s only the whispering mist and the low rasp of breathing. The feline monster narrows its molten eyes, studying him. "You really want to join us?" the feline asks, voice still guarded but tinged with curiosity. Alix shrugs easily, as if the idea is the most natural thing in the world. Before he can answer, the reptilian snarls, tail lashing hard against the ground. "Stop with your nonsense," he snaps, venom dripping from every word. "If you really wanted to join us, you wouldn''t come sneaking around here." Alix raises an eyebrow, playing along. "Oh?" he says smoothly. "And why is that?" The reptilian''s eyes flash with anger. He steps forward, claws flexing. "Why would I tell you?" he growls, voice low and dangerous. Alix chuckles under his breath ¡ª a soft, amused sound that seems to mock them without effort. The mist coils tighter, the tension thick enough to cut. Alix tilting his head slightly. His crimson eyes gleam in the swirling gloom. "You really should be more welcoming to potential allies." The insectoid monster hisses sharply, scythe-like limbs twitching, but says nothing ¡ª watching, waiting. Alix lets the silence stretch a moment longer, feeling the weight of their suspicion, their barely restrained aggression. Good, let them think he''s just another fool. It''ll make everything easier. He smiles again ¡ª calm, easy, dangerous. "Well," he says lightly, "if you won''t tell me... I''ll just have to find out myself." The reptilian roars, lunging first ¡ª a blur of muscle and scale, claws flashing. Alix doesn''t even move from where he stands. He lifts a single hand, catches the reptilian''s wrist mid-swing ¡ª the momentum dies instantly, as if the larger monster slammed into an immovable wall. "What¡ª?!" the reptilian snarls, eyes wide with shock. Before he can process it, Alix twists sharply. There''s a wet crack as the reptilian''s arm dislocates at the shoulder. He screams, staggering backward. The feline is faster, darting in with a blur of black and gold, twin arm-blades aiming for Alix''s neck and heart. A clean strike. But Alix steps aside with a casual sidestep, letting the blades whistle past harmlessly. His hand flicks out ¡ª a slap, almost lazy. The feline is sent flying sideways like a ragdoll, slamming into the ground hard enough to leave a shallow crater in the soft, corrupted earth. The insectoid hisses in alarm, scythes gleaming as it charges, its movements sharper, more careful. Alix watches him come with mild interest. "You''re the smart one, huh," he murmurs. The scythe-armed monster slashes at his midsection in a deadly arc. Alix lets it get close ¡ª too close ¡ª then pivots slightly, grabbing the scythe arm just as it passes. He yanks. The insectoid''s body lifts off the ground with a shocked click, and Alix hurls him headfirst into a nearby tree. The impact splits the trunk in two, sending splinters flying through the mist. The forest goes eerily still for a moment. Alix straightens his cloak with a small tug at the collar, not even breathing hard. The reptilian groans on the ground, cradling his mangled arm. The feline struggles to rise, blood dripping from his mouth. The insectoid twitches among the broken remains of the tree, dazed. Alix steps forward leisurely, his boots barely making a sound against the corrupted soil. His crimson eyes sweep over the three, indifferent. "That''s it?" he says, almost disappointed. "I was hoping for at least a warm-up." The reptilian grits his teeth, forcing himself upright, tail whipping the ground in frustration. "What the hell are you?" he snarls, voice shaking with rage and a hint of fear. Alix tilts his head slightly, considering the question. "I''m a Tier 5," he says mildly, brushing a speck of dust from his glove. "Same as you." Chapter 163 - 165: Commander Lathar The reptilian stares at him, disbelief tightening his features. Blood seeps from the corner of his mouth as he growls low, eyes burning. "There''s no way," he spits. "You''re just a Tier 5? No Tier 5 can do that. No one beats us this easily!" The feline, still on one knee, wipes blood from his chin and glares at Alix. "You''re hiding something." Alix''s gaze sharpens. The casual air slips away like a dropped mask. He steps forward slowly, the mist parting for him, and his voice loses its playful edge ¡ª now cold, level, and edged with steel. "I don''t care what the three of you are thinking," he says quietly. "Whether you believe me or not doesn''t matter. What does matter... is that I offered to join you." The insectoid monster, still half-lodged in a splintered tree, clicks its mandibles rapidly. "Why?" it rasps. "You came from the Adventurers Guild. That quest ¡ª the one you took ¡ª it''s a trap. We made it. For adventurers like you." Alix stops just a few paces from the reptilian, who instinctively flinches under his gaze. "I figured," Alix says. His voice is calm, almost disinterested ¡ª but something in his presence presses down like a storm front. Cold. Crushing. Unavoidable. "You put up that notice to lure fools in. Pick off the strong ones. Keep the Guild off balance while your faction grows in the dark." The reptilian bares his teeth again, though there''s hesitation now. "...Yeah. And it worked. Until you showed up." Alix sighs, almost theatrically, then shrugs. "Then take it as a gift. I walked into your trap ¡ª and I''m still offering to join you. Doesn''t that say something?" The three monsters glance at each other. They''re bruised. Bloodied. Shaken. And not just physically. The feline narrows his eyes again. "Why? What do you want from the Ember Claw?" Alix''s answer is simple, quiet. "Information. Access. And a person I want to meet." He smiles faintly, not kindly. "In return... you get me." Silence stretches between them ¡ª thick, uneasy. Then, after a beat, the insectoid clicks softly. "...We''ll have to bring you to the commander." Alix''s smile deepens just slightly. "Perfect," he says. The three monsters turn without another word, leading Alix deeper into the mist-choked forest. Branches creak above. The scent of decay hangs thick in the air. As they walk, Alix keeps his tone casual. "I want to ask something," he says, gaze forward. "Do you guys know anything about someone called the plaque? The new one who''s been fighting your enemies lately." The feline glances over his shoulder, ears twitching. "The Plaque, huh. I''ve heard the name. Been getting thrown around lately in the whole continent." The reptilian grunts. "Yeah. Our leader''s issued a standing order ¡ª if any member spots him, they''re to try and invite him to the headquarters. Doesn''t matter if he''s Guild-affiliated or not." The insectoid adds with a dry click, "Last thing I heard, he fought Astram... and survived." That makes even the air seem to pause. The insectoid turns his head slightly. "Only our leader can face Astram and walk away. For that guy to do it..." He trails off, but the message is clear. Alix doesn''t respond immediately. Instead, he hides a flicker of thought behind a neutral expression. ''So Gander is not in the Ember Claw.'' After a while, the twisted trees begin to thin, and the mist gives way to a jagged clearing bathed in a dull red glow. Embedded into the side of a rocky hill is a structure ¡ª not made of stone or wood, but of some blackened organic material, like bones fused with metal, pulsing faintly with energy. Watchtowers loom above, their sentries barely visible through the haze. The reptilian gestures ahead. "This is one of our bases," he says. "Not the main one, but important enough. The one in command here is Lathar." He pauses, glancing sideways at Alix. "He''s a peak Tier 5." The insectoid clicks softly, almost smug. The feline smirks faintly. They''re watching for a reaction ¡ª a twitch, a frown, anything to show nerves. But Alix just keeps walking, his pace unchanging. "Alright," he says simply. No sarcasm. No tension. Just indifference ¡ª like someone hearing the name of a local shopkeeper. The feline''s smirk fades a little. "You didn''t hear me wrong," the reptilian says, trying again. "Peak. That''s one step from Tier 6." "I heard you," Alix says, not looking at him. "I just don''t care." The three fall quiet for a moment, unease flickering beneath their expressions. Alix stops in front of the wide, organic-looking gate, crimson eyes reflecting the pulsing light. "Let''s go," he says, voice steady. "I''d like to meet your commander." The gates part with a heavy groan, the blackened material folding open like the ribs of a beast. Inside, the base hums with low energy ¡ª corridors woven of dark sinew and bone, glowing faintly with a red pulse that seems synced to a heartbeat too deep to hear. As Alix steps inside, every head turns. Monsters of all shapes and sizes, pause what they''re doing. Conversations cut off. Weapons lower just slightly. All eyes fall on the trio leading the way... and the stranger walking behind them. There''s no mistaking their status. The three monsters¡ªwounded or not¡ªwalk with a quiet authority. Their presence carries weight here. Rank. Respect. Just below the commander. A horned, four-armed brute leans over to whisper, "What the hell happened to them?" "They look like they fought something nasty," another mutters from the shadows. One of the winged scouts perched above frowns down at Alix. "Who''s the outsider?" The feline doesn''t break stride, voice curt. "Potential recruit. Brought him in personally." The reptilian adds, "He passed the test." That gets a few murmurs. One of the monsters scoffs, but another leans forward, intrigued. Alix glances around, eyes brushing over the crowd like drifting coals¡ªunbothered, calm. The murmur dies almost instantly. The insectoid clicks his mandibles once, a sound like a signal, and the hallway parts. No one stands in their way. The feline looks back at Alix, studying him again. "You''re really not nervous?" he asks, quieter now. "Not even a little?" Alix meets his eyes, expression unreadable. "I''ve already beaten you three," he says simply. "Why would I be worried about your superior?" The reptilian chuckles dryly under his breath, almost impressed. ---- The hallway opens into a broad chamber carved into the hill''s heart, lit by slow, pulsing veins of crimson light that snake through the walls. At its center stands a massive stone-like table, warped and cracked with age, surrounded by maps, carved tokens, and clusters of glowing shards that hum with arcane energy. Behind it stands a tall, imposing figure ¡ª lean but broad-shouldered, covered in sleek obsidian armor that seems to ripple with life. His face is partially covered by a bone-like helm, but one eye¡ªsharp, yellow, and piercing¡ªgleams from beneath it. Lathar. He doesn''t look up at first. His clawed fingers move pieces across the table, muttering under his breath. Only after a long moment does he raise his gaze, fixing it on the three monsters. "What is it this time, you three?" His voice is low, gravelly, and edged with mild irritation. "You look like you''ve been stepped on by a dragon." The reptilian bows slightly. "Commander. There''s someone here... he wants to join." That gets Lathar''s attention. His eye narrows. "What? Since when did you three become recruiters?" The feline stiffens slightly but speaks up. "We didn''t plan to. He found us. Took the bait quest." Lathar frowns. "And?" The insectoid clicks his mandibles. "He beat all three of us. Clean. We couldn''t land a real hit." Silence stretches for a breath. Then Lathar straightens fully, stepping out from behind the table. His presence is heavy¡ªevery movement measured, precise, like a blade half-drawn. Alix doesn''t bow. Doesn''t flinch. He simply meets Lathar''s gaze with quiet confidence. "You wanted to join?" Lathar asks. "You do realize what we are here, right?" Alix says nothing. Lathar gestures vaguely to the walls, the structure, the unnatural energy that pulses through the air like a heartbeat. "In the eyes of the world¡ªof the nobles, the Guild, the city lords¡ªwe''re not a faction. We''re not a resistance. We''re the villains. The rebels. The ones who refused to kneel when the ''One Lord'' declared his reign absolute." He takes a few slow steps forward, each one ringing slightly on the hard floor. "Is that something you''re ready for, adventurer? Because this... isn''t just some mercenary group." Alix shrugs, his expression cool and unreadable. "I don''t really care," he says. "Also, is it really this hard to join?" Lathar pauses, the flicker of a dry smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. "Normally? No. We''d welcome someone like you with open arms. Someone that strong doesn''t come walking in every day." He stops just a few paces from Alix now, his gaze sharp as a blade''s edge. "But lately... too many bases have gone dark. Destroyed from the inside. We''ve had traitors¡ªpeople who joined just to gut us when we least expected it." His voice hardens. "So yes, we''re careful now. Paranoid, even. We don''t hand out trust just because someone looks strong." Lathar''s smile sharpens. "How about this," he says, voice low. "Fight me." A stir ripples through the room behind them. A few murmurs, a few sharp intakes of breath. "If you survive for one minute, I''ll recommend you directly to the headquarters." Alix raises a brow, clearly unimpressed. "Oh? And what if I defeat you?" That draws a short laugh from Lathar¡ªdeep, amused, almost predatory. "Defeat me?" he echoes, clearly entertained. "You''re bold. I like that." He tilts his head slightly, stretching one armored shoulder. "Alright. If you beat me, I won''t just recommend you." He steps back, the air around him beginning to hum with latent power. "I''ll personally escort you to meet our leader." Chapter 164 166: Alix Vs. Lathar Outside, in the clearing behind the base, the trees fall away into a wide, open ring of scorched earth and stone¡ªclearly used often for combat. Scars from previous fights cut deep into the dirt: impact craters, melted grooves, claw marks, and bloodstains long since dried. A crowd is already gathering, drawn by word of the challenge. Dozens of Ember Claw members form a loose circle around the clearing''s edge¡ªbeasts, mutants, chimeras, and more monstrous things cloaked in shadow and mist. Many tower over Alix, others crouch low with twitching limbs, some hiss softly with anticipation. "He''s going to fight the commander?" a scaled brute mutters, blinking wide amber eyes. "No way he survives," a stitched-together abomination chuckles. "Lathar doesn''t hold back." "Still..." says a feathered creature with glowing orbs for eyes, "Gotta give him credit. Takes guts to stand up to a peak Tier 5." One of the winged scouts leans down from her perch on a skeletal pillar, murmuring, "Either he''s insane... or he''s really a real deal." A thin-limbed wraith near the front smirks, smoke curling from its shoulders. "I hope he lasts longer than the last idiot who tried. That guy didn''t even last fifteen seconds." The original trio¡ªreptilian, feline, and insectoid¡ªstand off to the side, nursing their injuries, eyes fixed on the center. Lathar steps into the center of the clearing. His obsidian armor glints under the pale red glow, and the ground subtly cracks beneath each of his slow, deliberate strides. He stretches his neck with a pop, then rolls his shoulders as faint, flickering strands of crimson energy rise around him like coiled fire. "I won''t kill you," he says, tone even, "but don''t expect me to play nice either." Alix steps into the circle across from him, calm, relaxed. "You don''t have to hold back," he says. "I''d be insulted if you did." More murmurs ripple through the crowd. "Damn," someone breathes, grinning. "This guy''s really not scared." A dozen monsters focus their gazes, mana gathering faintly in case the fight gets out of hand. Lathar''s smile is gone now. His stance lowers, sharp and precise, fingers flexing once like talons. Alix takes one step forward, then another¡ªmeasured, quiet, calm. With a flick of his wrist, his sword materializes into his hand: sleek, dark metal edged in a faint shimmer of power. It''s a Tier 5 weapon¡ªsharp, responsive, balanced perfectly to him. He could''ve used the Tier 6 blade in his inventory... but what''s the point of swinging a sword you can''t wield properly? This one will do just fine. The air around him stills, and then¡ªso subtly it barely registers¡ªhis aura shifts. He doesn''t shout incantations. There''s no dramatic gesture or glowing glyphs. Just a breath, a blink¡ª ¡ªand five buff skills stack silently across his body. Speed. Reflexes. Precision. Durability. Strength. Lathar''s eyes narrow the instant he senses it. Not clearly¡ªjust a flicker, a wrongness in the rhythm of the air. (...Did he just...?) His mind clicks into high alert. That wasn''t just one skill. He watches Alix closely, jaw tight behind his helm. The flow of mana isn''t loud or sloppy¡ªit''s razor-tight, folded in on itself, like a seal forged to suppress even the trace of presence. Most of the crowd doesn''t notice a thing. They just see a guy holding a sword. But Lathar? He feels it. One buff skill is manageable. Two is impressive. Three is dangerous. But five¡ªpossibly more¡ªand all cast silently, without a single chant or tell? He squares his stance, eyes sharp now. Serious. "Heh..." he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for Alix to hear. "Five buff skills. Maybe more. You hiding a sixth one too, or are you just showing off?" Alix tilts his head slightly. "You counted?" "I guessed." Lathar exhales slowly, drawing power into his limbs, armor humming in response. "...I just felt a chill, that''s all," he says. "Been a long time since someone gave me that." He cracks his knuckles, the energy around him coiling tighter, heavier. "This is gonna be interesting." A heartbeat passes. Then Lathar moves. No warning, no callout¡ªjust a blur of motion as he surges forward, water coalescing around his right arm. It twists mid-air, hardening into a spiral lance of deep blue mana that pulses with chilling pressure. "Tier 4 Skill ¡ª Torrent Fang!" The ground beneath his feet fractures as he explodes off it, thrusting the lance toward Alix with precise, overwhelming force. A roaring burst of compressed water tears through the air like a jet engine, sharp enough to pierce enchanted steel. But Alix is already moving. His body shifts to the side fluidly¡ªnot dodging, meeting the blow. Mana flares around his blade as he slashes upward in a swift arc, coated in flickering orange light that radiates intense heat. "Tier 4 Skill ¡ª Flame Rend." Steel meets water. A thunderous crack erupts as the two elements collide¡ªfire hissing violently against Lathar''s spiraling lance, the impact erupting in a blinding flash of steam and flame. The shockwave detonates outward, hurling dust and debris into the watching crowd. Several monsters stumble back, shielding their faces. A few lose their footing entirely. "Shit¡ª!" "Back up! Back up!" The ground groans and splits beneath the clash. The air warps from the pressure. For a moment, it seems even. But then Lathar grits his teeth¡ªhis lance faltering, cracking apart from the center. Alix''s blade doesn''t just cut¡ªit devours the opposing skill, heat roaring up the length of the water construct and disintegrating it from the inside. With a sharp twist of his wrist, Alix snaps the remnants of the skill apart and steps in close, his blade coming within inches of Lathar''s chest before the commander leaps back, boots skidding hard across the stone. Silence ripples through the clearing. Lathar glances at his gauntlet¡ªscorched. His arm trembles slightly from the force of the rebound. "...You overpowered my Tier 4 skill," he says, voice low, more surprised than angry. Alix lowers his blade just a fraction, face unreadable. "You gave me an opening." "You met water with fire. You should''ve been overrun." Alix shrugs. "Fire''s just what I felt like using." A flicker of surprise crosses Lathar''s eye. "...You can use more than one elements?" "I can," Alix answers simply. Another stir spreads through the crowd. "Did he just¡ª?" "No wonder he''s cocky..." Lathar rolls his shoulders, the armor creaking slightly as mana flows faster now beneath his skin. "...Then I''ll stop holding back," he says, his tone finally darkening. The moment Lathar speaks those words¡ª"I''ll stop holding back"¡ªthe temperature plummets. The air thickens with moisture. Mana condenses so sharply it hums, like vibrating glass. The sky above the clearing darkens, clouds swirling unnaturally fast, pulled by the raw gravitational force of magic gathering around Lathar. "Tier 5 Skill ¡ª Abyssal Flood." Water surges out from beneath his boots, not from the ground, but seemingly from nowhere¡ªa rising wall of black-blue liquid that moves with impossible force. It churns like a living tide, arcs of lightning crackling faintly across its surface. The watching monsters fall silent. Then the wave crashes down. Not toward Alix¡ªbut over everything. It devours half the clearing in one violent sweep, uprooting earth, flattening the terrain. Trees at the edge of the ring bend and snap, soaked instantly. Rocks are launched like missiles. The entire base behind them shudders. The feline¡ªstill bandaged¡ªchokes on his breath. "Does the commander want to destroy the base?!" A reptilian near him snarls. "That''s not sparring! That''s war!" Above them, winged scouts dive for cover. Others scramble away from the circle''s edge, shielding their heads. But in the heart of the flood¡ªa flash of gold. Alix stands at its center, utterly still. The water should''ve swallowed him whole. Instead¡ª "Tier 5 Skill ¡ª Earthen Vault." The ground beneath his feet erupts upward, massive slabs of stone forming a rotating shield that splits the incoming tide. Water slams into the barrier, but the rock holds firm¡ªreinforced by a second ripple of elemental energy that pulses outward from Alix''s feet. "Tier 5 ¡ª Lightning Bind." A high-pitched crack pierces the sky as lightning rips through the remaining water, splitting it like a jagged scar across the battlefield. The deluge collapses into vapor, and the swirling torrent loses form¡ªshattered by precision, counter-element, and sheer will. At the edge of the field, the three Tier 5 monsters instantly react. "Barrier¡ªnow!" snarls the horned, four-armed brute. A shimmering dome of force snaps into place around the two fighters, cutting them off from the crowd. Arcane sigils spiral outward, carving glowing lines across the boundary. The air inside compresses, locking their powers in place. "Contain them," the insectoid mutters, clicking his mandibles. "If either of them unleashes another Tier 5 skill, we''ll lose half the base." Within the dome, the storm settles. Alix stands tall amidst the mist and fractured ground, lightning still arcing faintly around his arms. His gaze fixes on Lathar¡ªwho now breathes hard, one knee bent slightly to brace against the recoil of his last attack. His armor is scorched in patches. Cracks web across his right pauldron. His hands tighten into fists¡ªbut he doesn''t rush. He watches. Judging. Then¡ª Alix exhales slowly. "...Let''s end this right now," he says calmly. Lathar''s spine stiffens at the tone¡ªnot angry, not taunting. Just final. Then¡ªwithout warning¡ªAlix vanishes. No flare of mana. No chant. Just gone. Flash-step. Alix reappears ten meters away, his back to the mist. Three distinct ripples of pressure flare in the air around him. He isn''t attacking. Not yet. Instead¡ªhe lifts his hand. And conjures. Not with a flourish, not with an incantation. Just will. Mana parts the air like blades, and three glowing skill sigils emerge¡ªhovering behind him like looming constellations. Chapter 165 - 167: Veyrith, Leader Of The Ember Claw Group Each one is Tier 5. Each one radiates an overwhelming elemental presence that makes even the barrier hum in warning. The first sigil blazes gold-red with roaring heat: "Tier 5 Skill ¡ª Solar Break." A sunlike orb begins forming at its center, pulsing violently with compressed fire and light. The very air around it distorts. The second sigil crackles with chaotic arcs of white-blue lightning: "Tier 5 Skill ¡ª Thunder Crown." Bolts flicker outward, coiling around Alix''s body like living serpents, his aura flashing with electrical rage. The third¡ª Dark green and earthen, its center swirling with gravity-defying shards of stone and crystal: "Tier 5 Skill ¡ª Gaia''s Edge." The ground trembles beneath them as jagged spears of earth rise silently, poised to strike at command. Alix doesn''t say a word. He just looks at Lathar. The commander stares at the three sigils¡ªhis jaw tight, sweat rolling down his brow despite the cold. He takes one step back. Then another. His body stiffens. Soul instincts scream louder than logic. Every fiber in him says run. The moment all three Tier 5 skills begin to stabilize in the air behind Alix¡ªeach one primed for simultaneous cast¡ªLathar lifts both hands with a sharp intake of breath. "Okay!" he barks. "Okay, okay, you win! I admit defeat!" The skills freeze. The glowing sigils hold a moment longer¡ªthen slowly dissipate, absorbed back into Alix''s control. Silence. Lathar exhales heavily, eyes wide, chest rising and falling. "...You were really going to use all three at once," he mutters, voice dry. Alix gives a faint shrug. "You said don''t expect you to play nice." A long pause. Then¡ªLathar lets out a quiet, incredulous laugh. "That wasn''t nice. That was insanity. If you''d fired those off at once... not even ashes left." The barrier drops. Gasps and murmurs ripple through the watching crowd. Monsters stare in stunned silence. The feline gapes. "Did... did the commander just give up?!" The insectoid twitches nervously. "That wasn''t a spar. That was a display of power." One of the scouts mutters, "Three Tier 5s at once... No chant... No strain..." The feathered oracle bows her head slightly. "This Alix... is not someone you measure by rank alone." Back in the ring, Lathar walks over and claps Alix''s shoulder¡ªstill catching his breath. shakes his head. "Although, I''m seriously impressed. You conjured three Tier 5 skills¡ªsimultaneously¡ªand not just junk skills either. Each of those was lethal on its own." Alix says nothing, simply returning the nod with a calm, unreadable look. Lathar continues, "I''ve fought monsters, assassins, even a damn storm elemental once. But I''ve never seen someone cast like that. No chant. No delay. No instability. That''s not normal. That''s surgical." He gives Alix a sideways glance, curiosity sparking in his eyes. "Honestly... I want to ask how the hell you pulled that off. What kind of training are you working with? But I''m guessing you don''t feel like sharing." Alix''s expression barely shifts. "I can''t." Alix thought, ''Even if I wanted to, I couldn''t teach it to others. After all, it''s not training¡ªit''s just the system being different.'' Lathar smirks. "Yeah. Thought so." He straightens up, his tone turning brisk again. "Anyway, we need to move. If you''re still set on meeting the leader, this is the moment. You won my respect¡ªand everyone''s attention. That''s enough to grant you an audience, no questions asked." He gestures for Alix to follow, turning toward the edge of the clearing. The crowd silently parts for them, watching with a mixture of awe and wariness. Lathar leads him to a shadowed alcove behind a cluster of fractured stone pillars. Embedded in the ground is a circular platform, etched with glowing runes pulsing faintly with teleportation magic. He steps onto it, motioning for Alix to do the same. "Teleport gate to the main base," Lathar explains, placing a hand against one of the sigils. "Takes us straight to the main base. The leader doesn''t like wasting time, and trust me, after what you just showed... he''ll want to see you immediately." Alix steps onto the platform beside him, and the air begins to hum. With a low pulse of energy and a flash of light, the teleportation sigils activate¡ªand they vanish. Shortly after, Alix finds himself engulfed in a swirl of color and pressure, like being squeezed through a tunnel of raw mana. Then¡ªwith a subtle pop¡ªthe world stabilizes around him. He blinks once. They''re standing in a vast, domed hall flooded with movement and light. Crystalline panels line the ceiling, refracting sunlight into cascading rainbows across the marble-like floor. Dozens of teleportation circles line the perimeter, each one flaring to life every few seconds as people¡ªand creatures¡ªappear or vanish. Alix''s eyes flick across the crowd. A group of scaled warriors stride past, speaking in sharp, guttural tones. A cloaked elf sorcerer adjusts her staff, flanked by a floating eye construct. Two insectoid guards check credentials at a security post. A horned merchant hawks glowing artifacts from a floating stall. It''s organized chaos. Lathar steps forward, motioning loosely with a gloved hand. "Welcome to our main base''s teleportation station," he says. "This is one of the busiest hubs of the city¡ªmilitary, trade, even research all flow through here." Alix''s gaze lingers on a pair of children¡ªone an elf, one feline¡ªracing past with small rune-satchels, laughing. Lathar notices and adds, "Yeah. It''s not just monsters here. We''ve got beastkin, demi-races, synthetics¡ªyou name it. This isn''t some war camp. It''s a city." Alix studies the flow of people. "You''re not just surviving out here. You''re... thriving." Lathar grins. "We don''t have the luxury of falling apart. Not with the world the way it is. Our strength comes from unity¡ªforced or earned." They continue walking through the bustling hall, footsteps echoing over smooth stone as the shifting crowd gives them a wide berth. Looking around, Alix finally speaks. "With how open your main base is... you''re telling me this Astram guy still doesn''t know where it is?" Lathar lets out a short breath through his nose, half a laugh. "Oh, he knows. I''d bet good coin on it." "Then why hasn''t he hit you?" "Because he can''t afford to," Lathar says, glancing sideways. "Not with the other families watching him like hawks. Astram''s powerful, yeah, but his grip on the throne isn''t absolute. If he goes all-in on us, he leaves his flanks open. And in his world, hesitation means assassination." Alix raises a brow. "Politics over power." "Exactly. Even monsters have to play the long game." They exit the building, stepping through a broad archway framed by living crystal vines. The light outside is warm, but filtered¡ªdiffused by mana-rich air. What greets Alix beyond the threshold is a sight he doesn''t quite expect. A massive, multi-tiered city stretches before them, alive with movement and layered architecture. Structures of glass-like stone and glowing metal rise in elegant arcs. Sky-rails weave between towers. Hovering platforms drift lazily in the air. Trees grow along rooftops and in vertical gardens, coexisting with magic-tech arrays and rune lanterns. The city pulses with both nature and design¡ªvibrant, alive, and unmistakably advanced. Alix pauses, taking it in. Though it''s not as grand as his own capital in sheer scale or royal opulence... in terms of harmony, infrastructure, and cultural mix¡ªthis place is something else entirely. ''Compared to the cities in the Three Kingdoms,'' Alix thinks, ''this is a hundred times more advanced.'' Lathar watches his expression, a hint of pride in his voice. "Not bad, huh?" Alix nods slowly. "It''s... more than I expected." "Good. You''ll want to remember that feeling." Lathar starts down a curved path toward a looming central tower in the distance, flanked by shimmering barriers and guard sentries. They approach the central tower¡ªtaller than any structure Alix has seen in this city. Its surface gleams like obsidian, etched with glowing veins of mana that pulse in rhythm, as if the building itself breathes. Guards step aside silently as they near, and a wide, rune-locked door begins to open without a word. A deep hum resonates from within. They step inside. The interior is cavernous¡ªmore like a cathedral than a hall. Massive archways curve high overhead, each one supported by monolithic pillars that shimmer with enchantments. At the far end of the chamber, seated atop a platform of blackstone and ancient roots, is him. The leader. A colossal figure, at least seven meters tall, sits upon a throne grown from living crystal and fossilized bone. His form is vaguely humanoid¡ªbut only in silhouette. Everything else is monstrous. Thick armor-like scales cover his body, a dull, volcanic black with cracks that glow faintly like magma. His arms are long and built like siege weapons, ending in taloned claws. A flowing mane of dark crimson energy drapes behind his head like a burning cape. Horns spiral from the sides of his skull, and his eyes¡ªmolten gold, sharp as blades¡ªfix instantly on Alix. The air grows heavier. The entire chamber reacts to his presence. Mana thickens. Light dims. Even the floor seems to tense under his gaze. Lathar bows his head, kneeling with one fist pressed to the ground. Alix doesn''t kneel. The leader''s voice rolls across the chamber like distant thunder, low and heavy. "Lathar. You''re here. Has something gone wrong?" Lathar lifts his head, his voice steady. "No, my lord. Nothing''s wrong. I bring someone... exceptional." The molten-gold gaze shifts, locking fully onto Alix. Lathar rises to his feet, glancing once at Alix before turning back to the throne. "This is Alix. He approached our outpost, asked to join. But he made a request¡ªhe wanted to see you personally." A rumble rolls through the air, not quite a growl, not quite speech. The leader''s presence sharpens. Chapter 166 - 168: Verid Hollow "So you brought him here... simply because he asked?" "No." Lathar hesitates, then chuckles bitterly. "I challenged him to a duel. If he could defeat me, I''d grant the audience." He straightens his posture, jaw clenched. "And I was defeated," he says bluntly. "Utterly. No excuses. No holding back on either side. He overwhelmed me. The leader''s claws curl slightly against the stone armrest. Silence deepens. Then¡ª A deep, amused growl echoes through the hall. "I see." The leader rises slightly from his throne, his immense form casting shadows that ripple like heat haze. He steps down from the platform with the weight of a collapsing mountain, each footfall thudding with restrained force. His aura expands, brushing against Alix like the edge of a storm. "I am Veyrith," he says, the name vibrating the walls. "Leader of the Ember Claw group. And the only reason this city still breathes while the world crumbles." He halts a few paces from Alix, towering above him. "You faced one of my commanders and forced surrender. You show no fear to me. So tell me, Alix..." His voice drops, a dangerous purr. "Why do you want to join?" Alix meets the molten gaze without flinching. He doesn''t bow. Doesn''t avert his eyes. He simply stands his ground¡ªcalm, silent, unreadable. Inside, of course, the truth sits quietly. This land is perfect. A continent where monsters rule, where raw power shapes society, and where no kingdom or noble blood dictates the flow of fate. If he can conquer this land, he might reach Tier 7 in one smooth ascent. But not yet. Right now, Alix has neither enough forces nor a foothold. So he''ll let the two powers¡ªVeyrith''s and Astram''s¡ªtear each other apart. And when the ashes settle... he''ll claim what''s left. But none of that shows on his face. "I want to end Astram''s tyranny," Alix says, his voice even, deliberate. Veyrith tilts his massive head, expression unreadable beneath the shifting glow of magma-lit eyes. "Just like everyone else," the behemoth rumbles. "Are you here for revenge?" Alix pauses, then nods slightly. "You could say something like that." Veyrith studies him in silence. For a long moment, nothing moves¡ªonly the low hum of energy crackling through the chamber''s walls. "People talk about vengeance," Veyrith finally says, voice low. "They burn hot and die fast. You... don''t strike me as the burning type." "I''m not," Alix replies. Veyrith''s gaze narrows, watching him like a predator. "Then what are you?" Alix''s answer is simple. "Patient." A deep, slow exhale rumbles from the monster-lord''s chest. Not quite a laugh. Not quite approval. "I see." Veyrith turns and ascends the steps back to his throne. Each stride seems to shake the air, but there''s a certain calm in the motion now¡ªless testing, more calculating. He lowers himself onto the throne with the weight of authority, claws tapping once against the stone. "I can feel it," he says, voice echoing across the chamber. "You''re strong. I''d be glad to have you on my side." His eyes narrow slightly, voice dipping with subtle amusement. "But people like you don''t take orders well. That''s fine. I prefer my blades sharp and self-guided." He shifts his gaze to Lathar. "Lathar, as punishment for your loss, you''ll serve under Alix¡ªfor a period." Lathar''s brow twitches, but he doesn''t argue. He bows his head. "Understood, my lord." Veyrith says flatly. "Alix, you''ll guard the sector Lathar commands. It''s a contested region. Dangerous, unstable... but important." His gaze cuts between them. "Is that a good arrangement for you?" Alix doesn''t answer right away. He simply lets a faint smirk tug at the corner of his lips¡ªjust enough that Veyrith might catch it, but not so bold it''s disrespectful. ''So that''s how he wants to play it.'' Alix knows what this is. Veyrith isn''t just handing over authority¡ªhe''s planting Lathar to monitor him. A watchdog dressed as a subordinate. It''s clever. But Alix doesn''t care. He''s not here to hide. "That works for me," Alix says smoothly. Veyrith leans back, lava-lit cracks along his arms pulsing with subtle heat. "Then it''s settled. Lathar, you answer to Alix for now. Alix, you hold that zone. Keep it from falling." He lifts one massive claw. "And don''t die. That would be disappointing." ------ Alix and Lathar step out of the obsidian tower, the thick mana-saturated air outside feeling almost light by comparison. The door behind them seals shut with a low hum. Lathar immediately exhales hard, dragging in a fresh breath like he''s been underwater for minutes. "Whew..." He shakes his head. "You really are something else." Alix glances at him without slowing his stride. "Lord Veyrith just flared his full aura at you, and you took it like it was nothing," Lathar says, still half in disbelief. "Meanwhile, I was standing there feeling like I was about to sink into the floor." Alix shrugs. "Then you need to train your mental fortitude." Lathar scoffs, smirking. "Mental fortitude doesn''t mean much when it feels like the sky''s about to crush you." "Then get stronger." "Hah," Lathar grunts. "Easier said than done." They pass under the archway again, re-entering the layered city. The sounds of activity¡ªdistant chimes, hovering skiffs, the hum of mana rails¡ªfilter back in. "So," Lathar says, hands slipping into his coat pockets, "want to head back to the base now? After all... you''re the commander now." Alix looks ahead calmly. "What if I said: even though I''m the commander, you keep doing what you were doing before?" Lathar stops for a beat, blinking. Then sighs dramatically. "And here I was, thinking I''d finally be free from all that paperwork and patrol logistics." Alix lets the smallest smile touch his lips. "You''re still free." "Oh yeah?" Lathar raises a brow. "How''s that?" "You''re free to complain while doing it." Lathar groans, rubbing the back of his neck. "Damn. This is gonna be a long few weeks." Alix walks a few more steps, then glances sideways at Lathar. "Is there a place here where I can buy information?" Lathar doesn''t even blink. "There is. Just follow me." No questions. No curiosity. He simply turns and starts walking down a side path that curves along a lower-tier bridge. The wind shifts slightly¡ªthick with the scent of burning minerals and ozone. Alix keeps pace beside him. "You''re not going to ask what kind of information I want?" Lathar snorts. "I''ve seen enough today to know asking questions around you just wastes breath." Alix gives a faint nod, approving of the answer. The streets get narrower as they descend. Less polished. The floating lights are dimmer here, the air heavier. Not many people pass by, and those who do keep their heads down. "This part of the city," Lathar says quietly, "belongs to those who know how to listen... and sell what they hear." They turn a corner, and a squat building made of blackstone and shimmering boneglass looms into view. No signs, no guards¡ªjust a single red thread tied to the doorway, swaying with unnatural stillness. "This is it," Lathar says, then pauses. "You go in alone. Standard protocol. They don''t like guests coming in pairs." Alix steps forward, placing a hand on the door. It doesn''t open at first¡ªthen a subtle click sounds, and it eases inward with a whisper. Lathar leans back against the wall, arms crossed. "I''ll be out here when you''re done. Try not to pick a fight with the walls." Alix disappears into the shadows beyond the doorway without a word. ----- Some time passes. The door hisses open again. Alix steps out. His expression hasn''t changed, but there''s a faint shift in his presence¡ªsomething sharper. More focused. Tucked under one arm is a rolled-up parchment sealed with a rune-lock, and his other hand tucks away a thin metallic slip into his coat. Lathar straightens from the wall. "So. Got what you wanted?" Alix nods once. "Everything I needed. Including this." He holds up the rune-sealed map for a second. "Full topographical record of the continent. Territory divisions, mana concentrations, fault zones... even hidden routes." Lathar whistles low. "Expensive." Alix''s tone is flat. "Worth it." They fall into step again, heading back toward the lift line that snakes up to the main levels. "So what now?" Lathar asks. "We heading back to base?" Alix shakes his head. "No. I need to go somewhere first. I won''t be joining you." Lathar stops walking, blinking. "You''re leaving already?" Alix turns to face him. "Just for a while." Lathar exhales slowly, then digs into a hidden pocket in his belt. He pulls out a small obsidian token etched with a glowing red claw mark and flicks it toward Alix, who catches it effortlessly. "Here. That''s a key. You can use any teleportation station that''s under Ember Claw control." Alix studies the token for a moment before slipping it into his coat. "Thanks." Lathar gives him a half-smile, almost reluctant. "Don''t thank me. Just don''t die wherever you''re going. I don''t want to have to explain that to lord Veyrith." Alix smirks faintly. "I don''t die easily." Alix watches him go, then turns toward the nearest teleport node, the token already warming in his hand. He has what he needs. After some time studying the map, Alix decides to head for the teleportation station. The route is clear now. The place he''s going? Verid Hollow. The last known location where Gander known as The Plague was seen. A rift-scarred valley lost in obscurity, nestled between shattered cliffs and tangled ley-lines. No formal factions claim it¡ªbecause none can hold it. He mutters under his breath, more to himself than anyone listening, "So that''s where you went..." The thought lingers. ''This Astram guy''s forces are quite capable, to corner Gander like this.'' Chapter 167 - 169: Carwel and Tandu The teleportation platform activates with a sharp pulse of mana, the sigils beneath Alix''s feet flaring with blue-white light. Then¡ª Silence. Stillness. Pressure like slipping between folded dimensions¡ª And he''s through. Alix steps out into a dim, circular chamber. Not ruined. Not dusty. The walls are clean, lined with obsidian plating veined in living mana circuits that pulse gently beneath the surface¡ªnew construction, or at least maintained. He glances around. The room is built into stone, but reinforced with aether-treated steel, the air filtered and dry. No welcome committee. No sensors flaring in alarm. Just an automated presence that registers his arrival and logs it silently into a nearby console. "Smart," Alix mutters, stepping off the pad. "No direct connection to the network... just a controlled endpoint." The Ember Claw Group can''t link directly to other cities. Their teleportation grid is cut off from everyone¡ªeither by necessity or strategy. Which means this station was built quietly, likely without permission, bypassing Astram''s surveillance net. He walks to the door¡ªno obvious handle, no keypad. It opens with a whisper as the rune-token still resting in his coat pulses once. The door slides open with a soft hiss, revealing the outside world. Alix steps out into dense forest. The shift in environment is immediate¡ªcooler air, the chirring of unseen insects, filtered light breaking through thick, moss-covered branches. It''s quiet, but not lifeless. The teleportation chamber behind him blends seamlessly into a mound of earth and stone, like part of the forest itself. He glances back once to make sure it seals itself properly. Then he pulls out the map. "Let''s see..." He traces a finger toward Verid Hollow. A jagged symbol marks the scarred valley nearby¡ªtwisted topography, erratic leyline clusters. No faction banners, no recognized safe zones. Just warnings. But then his eyes catch something else¡ªjust west of Verid Hollow''s outer edge, nestled along a curved river and ringed by ridged cliffs. "Dosgir..." he murmurs. The city''s marker gleams faintly under the sunlight¡ªsmall, fortified, positioned just outside the edge of the ley-warp zone. According to the notations, it''s the last functional settlement before the Hollow. Not exactly close, but reachable. He studies the terrain between here and the Hollow. Dense forest. Rocky ridges. Two collapsed ley streams. And no official roadways. Of course there wouldn''t be. He stands, tucking the map away into his coat and scanning the treeline ahead. "This place might be crawling with scavengers and lunatics... but it''s rich." Mana crystals. Rare herbs. Ether-drenched beasts. Even relics left behind by unlucky adventurers. Alix exhales softly, then lifts into the air. The flight is smooth and effortless¡ªmana swirling faintly around his boots as he soars above the forest canopy. Wind tugs at his coat, the thick trees below giving way to rolling hills and shadowed cliffs. The sky is cloudy, but the visibility is good. The sky is cloudy, but the visibility is good. It doesn''t take long before the fortified outline of Dosgir comes into view¡ªa compact city built into the base of a steep ridge, its outer wall a mix of stone, metal, and reinforced bonewood. A few towers dot the perimeter, manned by sentries. Watch crystals blink from their perches. Alix begins to descend. The wind gathers around him in spirals as he floats gently down, landing just before the massive ironwood gates. A few guards shift where they stand, gripping halberds¡ªbut their expressions change the moment they see him lower from the sky. "Tier Five..." one of them mutters under his breath. A few locals nearby stop to stare. Two adventurers gawking openly from a nearby caravan elbow each other and start whispering. Alix doesn''t pay them any mind. He walks forward calmly, stopping just before the gate''s checkpoint. A bored-looking guard¡ªolder, with a patchy beard and a well-used cuirass¡ªstraightens up a bit when he sees Alix. His eyes flick briefly to the mana still radiating off Alix''s shoulders. "Welcome to Dosgir," the man says. "Entry tax is six silver." Alix nods and reaches into his coat. He drops a handful of silver coins onto the small tray beside the guard''s post. The guard doesn''t bother to count them. Just steps aside and taps the gate rune. "Go on through." The great gate lurches and splits open with a groan of gears and mana-powered pistons. Inside, the city is buzzing. Stone-paved roads, lined with vendors, mercenaries, and travelers from every corner of the continent. The air smells of iron, smoke, and a hint of roasted meat. Mana lights drift overhead, their glow pale against the overcast sky. But what dominates the center of the city¡ªwhat Alix notices immediately¡ªis the Adventurers Guild building. Massive. Towering above the surrounding structures, its darksteel walls glinting under enchantment wards, a huge crest carved above its open archway: two crossed spears over a shattered helm. Crowds move in and out¡ªgrizzled warriors, robed mages, hunters with monster hides slung over their backs. Alix watches silently for a moment, then steps forward. He just steps into the city proper, the gate sliding shut behind him with a metallic groan, when he catches a conversation nearby. Two adventurers, young and scruffy, leaning against a supply cart just off the main path. "Hey, did you see Sir Carwel and Tandu earlier?" one says, eyes wide with excitement. "No way," the other replies, turning toward him. "You''re serious?" "I swear on my core. They flew right over the outer wall¡ªlanded near the old barracks." The second man''s expression twists in disbelief, then awe. "Wait... that''s two of Lord Astram''s guardians. Two out of three. What are they doing here?" Alix slows slightly, his ears sharpening. "So the rumors are true," the first murmurs, his voice dropping lower. "The plague... it''s hiding in the Verid Hollow." The second exhales, low and shaky. "Damn. It must be. Why else would Tier Six powerhouses show up out here? Dosgir''s not exactly on the royal tour." "You''re lucky," the first says, shaking his head. "Seeing a Tier Six in person... I couldn''t even breathe when they walked past. Like gravity itself got heavier." Alix passes them without a word, but his eyes narrow slightly. "Two Tier Six..." Alix thinks, eyes narrowing as he continues walking. "Even for Gander, that''d be tough. If they''ve been Tier Six for a while, it''s a death sentence. But if they just broke through..." He doesn''t finish the thought. Either way, it''s a dangerous variable. He strides through the busy avenue, weaving between armored mercenaries and cloaked traders. His destination is clear: the Adventurers Guild. Inside, the building hums with mana and voices. Quest boards line the eastern wall, glowing softly. A scent of incense and leather hangs in the air. Scribes work behind reinforced counters, while adventurers of all ranks sort through missions, supplies, or bounties. Alix approaches the nearest reception desk¡ªa young elf woman glancing up from a stack of enchanted parchments. "Looking for something, sir?" she asks politely, eyeing his coat and the mana radiating from him. "I need a detailed map of Verid Hollow," Alix says. "Topography, leyline activity, anything you''ve got." She hesitates for a beat. "We do have a few updated route charts compiled by survivors. They''re expensive¡ªfifty silver each." Alix slides a gold coin onto the counter. "Give me the best version." ------ Far from the bustle of Dosgir, deep within the twisted core of Verid Hollow, the air is thick with static. Crimson fog clings to the gnarled ground. Warped trees bend at unnatural angles. Ether pulses through the cracked terrain like the veins of some ancient creature. Floating just inches above the blighted soil, two figures move with careful precision. One wears deep violet armor inscribed with golden sigils¡ªtall, grim, his eyes glowing with restrained force. It''s Carwel. Beside him, broader and more bestial in build, his armor fused with living stone and arcane plating, floats Tandu¡ªhis expression tight with focus. Tandu hovers a little lower, eyes sweeping over the gnarled terrain. His voice is low, gruff, and tinged with irritation. "Where do you think that plague guy''s hiding?" Carwel doesn''t stop moving. His eyes scan the landscape with the precision of a predator. "Probably close. He was wounded fighting Lord Astram. He won''t have gone far." Tandu snorts, a plume of mana smoke curling from his helm vents. "Still can''t believe he survived that. Anyone else would''ve been vaporized." "It is impressive," Carwel says, his tone unreadable. "To face lord Astram directly and walk away¡ªeven barely¡ªisn''t something many can claim." "Yeah," Tandu mutters. "But impressive or not, we''re here to finish what he started." Carwel finally stops, floating above a twisted ridge of stone, his gaze settling on a dark ravine oozing violet mist. "Then let''s not waste time." Tandu cracks his knuckles, a ripple of stone spreading down his forearm. "Fine by me. Let''s smoke this freak before he finds a way to heal." --- Somewhere deeper in the Hollow¡ªbeneath a shattered ridge where the leyline currents fracture into flickering strands¡ªGander kneels inside a natural alcove carved into the roots of a massive, half-dead tree. The hollow hums around him, air warped and thick with arcane residue. He''s still now, breathing slow, controlled. His hands move with care. A black-gloved finger uncorks a small, jagged vial of greenish fluid¡ªthick, glowing faintly in the gloom. A healing potion, but not the kind found in stores. This one is laced with soulthread and bone powder, brewed in silence and pain. Gander lifts it to the ruined place where his mouth should be¡ªjust a jagged seam below the grotesque patchwork mask of his face. The thread stitches flex and shift as he drinks, the liquid vanishing between the folds of stitched skin. A hiss escapes him, involuntary. Chapter 168 168: Chaopter 170: Battle Of Tier 6 Then he leans back, resting against the tree''s pulsing root as the potion burns through him. The healing is slow. Painful. Not clean. It has to be that way¡ªhis body is stitched, broken, rebuilt a dozen times over. The potion knits together torn muscle, reinforces fractured bones, and tamps down the spreading corruption from his last battle. A tremor runs through Gander''s limbs as the potion finishes its grim work, leaving behind a throbbing ache deep in his joints. He doesn''t move for a moment. Just breathes. The green orbs in his eye sockets dim, then flare again¡ªsteady now. He mutters to himself, voice low and rough like dry bark scraping stone. "I''m really lucky to be alive." The statement hangs in the air, bitter as blood. He reaches beneath his tattered robes, pulling out a small object from a hidden inner pouch¡ªa warped silver locket, dull and scorched at the edges, its clasp fused shut. Arcane sigils are etched deep into its frame, faintly pulsing with residual light. The fail-safe. "If not for this..." he exhales, shaking his head slowly. "I''d be nothing but ash." His fingers curl tightly around the locket as he stares into the middle distance, where violet fog curls like fingers beyond the alcove''s mouth. "It was my lapse of judgment," he says, almost spitting the words. "I got overconfident. Thought I could read him." His fingers twitch, counting invisible numbers in the air. Weighing. Measuring. "In my estimate," Gander murmurs, "Astram''s level... 660. Maybe higher." Gander''s jaw tightens beneath the seams of his mask. His voice lowers, more to himself than to any unseen listener. "But I was holding my own." He lifts his hand, the faintest spark of cursed mana dancing across his fingertips. His eyes, burning green, narrow slightly. It wasn''t one-sided. Even with his level¡ªAstram had the upper hand, sure¡ªbut he wasn''t overwhelmed. Gander matched his tempo. Forced him to dodge more than once "I had a plan. A rhythm. I just needed a moment¡ªone slip, one mistake¡ªand I could''ve turned it." The mist stirs slightly around him, agitated by the low hum of his mana. "But then..." "Two Tier Six monsters, just appearing mid-fight like it was nothing. Their presence alone bent the leyline currents. I felt it¡ªlike the weight of another world dropped on the field." Suddenly Gander freezes. His head snaps toward the edge of the alcove. The fog shifts unnaturally¡ªno breeze, no animal. Just pressure. Then he feels it. Two signatures¡ªsharp, heavy, cutting across the leyline threads like knives. Skills, aimed, incoming. He doesn''t hesitate. "Mark shift." The cursed glyph ignites beneath him with a sharp hiss. A blink of green fire¡ªand he''s gone. Crack¡ªthe place he stood erupts, shattered by twin impacts. Mana surges explode against the half-dead tree, ripping bark and root in an upward spiral. Then¡ª High above the ridge, a new shimmer in the air¡ªspace warps, and Gander reappears, standing calmly on a jagged stone outcrop. His robes flutter in the heat left behind. Below him, Carwel rises first¡ªlevitating with unnatural grace, golden runes orbiting his armor like lazy stars. He smiles faintly. "Finally found you." Gander tilts his head, a crooked smirk pulling at the stitched edge of his mouth. "Congratulations, I guess." Tandu appears beside Carwel, a low hum of power vibrating from his stone-forged frame. His eyes narrow. "The Plague." He crosses his arms. "How about you come with us peacefully? Lord Astram wants to talk. He won''t even mention your earlier little scuffle." Gander lets out a dry chuckle. "Ohhh... how merciful." He takes a slow step forward, letting the cursed air ripple around him. "So tell me¡ªdoes your lord want to make me his subordinate now?" Tandu says nothing, eyes unreadable. Gander''s tone sharpens, voice carrying through the Hollow like a blade dragged across bone. "Then I''ll decline." His eyes flare bright green, defiant. "I already have someone I serve. For the rest of my life." The Hollow seems to inhale. Tandu''s jaw tightens. "Then we do this the hard way." Gander grins beneath the seams of his face. "Good." The cursed winds scream¡ªand the fight begins. Carwel launches first, his body becoming a blur of crimson light as he vanishes from sight. The air superheats in an instant. Tier 5 Skill ¨C Blazing Rift Step. A flaming shockwave tears the ground as he reappears directly in front of Gander, sword cleaving through the air like a falling star. Gander vanishes just as fast¡ªhis body disintegrating into a smear of green smoke. Tier 5 Skill ¨C Wraith Shell. The blade cleaves into the outcrop, and the entire ridge disappears¡ªnot crumbles, not cracks, but vanishes, atomized by the residual force. A portion of the mountain behind it begins to split under the aftershock. Carwel growls, spinning. "Behind!" Gander reappears, hand outstretched. "Cursebrand: Decay Spiral." A glyph pulses under Carwel''s feet¡ªthorned runes that lash upward, wrapping his limbs in writhing green-black chains. The moment they touch his armor, it begins to rust and splinter, the mana inside flickering. But Tandu slams down between them, axe raised. Tier 5 Skill ¨C Continental Sundering. The entire Hollow shudders. His axe hits the cursed tendrils¡ªand the land underneath erupts. A semicircle of terrain hundreds of meters wide vanishes in an explosion of stone and golden mana. Jagged tectonic scars race outward like claws. Gander barely escapes¡ªbarely. A sleeve of his robe is vaporized, and the cursed runes along his shoulder flare wildly as they struggle to regenerate. He lands on a fractured pillar, breathing hard, eyes glowing like lanterns. "So that''s how it is." Tandu rises, eyes burning green light. "We''re not here to entertain you." "Shame," Gander rasps. He slams his staff down. Tier 6 Skill ¨C Hollow Curse: Thousand Mouths of Xhar. A rift splits the sky above them. From it descends a tide of screaming black energy¡ªshapes with jagged teeth and coiling limbs shrieking in eldritch tongues. Each one explodes on contact, warping the world like oil on water. They descend. Tandu''s expression hardens. He lifts his free hand, slamming it into the ground. Tier 6 Skill ¨C Verdan Bulwark. A dome of compressed earth and sigils bursts upward, sealing him and Carwel inside with a flicker of golden light. The curse storm crashes down. The entire mountainside is devoured. Everything within five hundred meters is gone. Trees, stone, even mana itself is eaten, leaving behind only warped air and whispering void. Inside the bulwark, Tandu pants slightly¡ªhis armor hissing steam. Carwel slams his fist into the wall. "Let me out! I''ll burn him to ash!" Tandu exhales. "We do this together." The shield drops. Carwel bursts forward, blade blazing. Tier 6 Skill ¨C Solar Rend. The sword ignites like a miniature sun. Every swing leaves trails of plasma that slice the terrain apart. Entire ridgelines collapse into glowing canyons, and the sky darkens under the weight of the power unleashed. Gander moves with ghostly precision, dodging left, blinking right, cloak torn and burnt. "Cursebrand: Rot Inversion." He catches the plasma slash with a cursed glyph. Time seems to bend¡ªthen the slash reverses direction, screaming back toward Carwel. But the man is already mid-spin. Tier 5 Skill ¨C Infernal Shell¡ª Flames erupt in every direction, forming a cocoon of compressed fire that detonates outward. The inverted Solar Rend hits it¡ªand both annihilate the plateau beneath them. Massive chunks of mountain collapse. Tandu and Gander leap, meeting midair. Tandu''s axe crashes down, guided by molten earth runes. Tier 6 Skill ¨C Titan''s Verdict. A single blow, but the force punches a hole through the Hollow, straight down like an abyss. The shockwave sends Gander flying. He crashes through three rock pillars, bones snapping¡ªbefore he catches himself, barely upright. ---- In Dosgir city. The ground quakes. Again. A merchant stumbles as crates of dried herbs tumble off his cart. His donkey shrieks and bolts. Near the center plaza, stone dust shakes loose from carved temple spires as the cobblestones groan under the strain of distant impact. Boom. Another tremor rolls through like thunder trapped underground. "What the hell is happening?!" a young adventurer cries out, clutching the edge of a fountain to steady himself. His armor rattles with the vibrations. The sky remains deceptively clear¡ªbut the air carries a strange pressure, like the breath of a storm held too long. "It''s coming from the Verid Hollow," an older rogue mutters, stepping into the open with narrowed eyes. His voice trembles with awe, not fear. A third adventurer, his robe flaring with wind magic, stares at the western horizon¡ªwhere faint pulses of red, green, and gold flicker like distant lightning. His voice is low. Reverent. "Is this the work of Lord Carwel and Tandu?" Someone scoffs behind him. "Tier Six?" the voice is hoarse. "If that''s what a Tier Six is capable... then we''re ants." The ground rumbles again. This time, a fissure cracks open just outside the east gate. Not wide. Not deep. But it wasn''t there five seconds ago. And in the far sky, too distant to see clearly¡ªbut unmistakable to anyone with mana sense¡ªa disaster is falling. High above the trees, Alix pauses. He hovers midair, a faint golden aura swirling around his boots, cape flaring behind him. The Hollow sprawls far below¡ªtwisting, ancient, alive with cursed energy. Then¡ª BOOM. His pupils narrow. The second pulse follows. Something darker. Eldritch. Twisting. The aftermath leaves a blackened void in the distance. Gander. Alix doesn''t wait. With a roar of wind and mana, he surges forward¡ªblasting through the Hollow''s canopy in a golden streak. Trees bend in his wake. Leaves scatter like sparks. The leyline currents churn in response. He feels the pressure rising with every kilometer he closes¡ªlike wading through layers of heat and gravity. The kind of pressure only Tier 6 combatants generate. Chapter 169 - 171: Tier 6 Skill – Xhars Final Stitch Gander coughing, blood seeping from his mask''s seams, he chuckles. "You really want me dead." He raises both hands. Runes begin circling his body like dying stars. "Fine." "Let me show you a curse meant for gods." Tier 6 Skill ¨C Xhar''s Final Stitch. The sky begins to dim¡ªnot like a sunset, but like a shadow falling across the world from something above. The light bleeds from the clouds, replaced by a suffocating violet hue. Then¡ª It opens. A colossal eye materializes in the sky, stretching miles wide, its iris spiraling with writhing script from a language long dead. Veins of cursed energy web out from it, pulsing with each slow blink. The Hollow goes silent¡ªlike the world is holding its breath. Carwel stares up, jaw clenched. "This is bad," he mutters, voice hoarse. "We don''t know what his skill will do." Tandu snarls, veins bulging across his neck. "Fuck it. I''m done playing careful." He slams his axe into the ground, golden runes exploding outward like a wildfire. "We hit him with everything." Carwel nods grimly. "Then together." They rise¡ªmana howling around them like a storm. Twin cores ignite, the leyline threads beneath their feet burning with Tier 6 resonance. The terrain cracks beneath the pressure. Tandu roars. Tier 6 Skill ¨C Primordial Flame Burial. Golden fire erupts from his sword, expanding into a burning wave that twists reality. The flame devours sound itself, reducing everything it touches into glowing fragments that drift upward like dust in a furnace. Carwel follows. Tier 6 Skill ¨C Heavenfall Judgment. From the sky descends a titanic war-axe formed of light and stone, etched with the laws of the world. It falls slowly¡ªinevitably¡ªas if carried by divine gravity. The clouds spiral around it as it drops toward Gander, who stands unmoving, hands raised. The eye above them blinks. Tier 6 Skill ¨C Xhar''s Final Stitch. A circle of dark sigils bursts open around Gander, reaching out across dimensions. Tendrils of space itself unravel and wrap around his form. The eye in the sky weeps black light, which falls like rain. Each droplet carries a curse older than time. Each syllable of the spell twists the law of mana. Gander''s body cracks, stitching itself anew in real time¡ªbecoming something not quite mortal. His voice echoes across the battlefield¡ªnot from his mouth, but from the air itself. "I unmake, to remake. I tear apart, to survive." He steps forward, and the sky breaks. The three Tier 6 skills collide. Primordial Flame meets Xhar''s cursed deluge¡ªfire roaring upward, black rain plunging down. The moment of contact warps the air, then detonates. A blinding sphere of destruction expands outward¡ªtoo fast to escape. Heavenfall Judgment crashes in a heartbeat later, its divine impact compressing the explosion into a singularity for a blink of time¡ªbefore reversing outward in a wave of annihilation. The Verid Hollow doesn''t just explode¡ªit ceases. The entire zone where they are fighting, a radius the size of a city, is swallowed by cascading voidfire and molten light. Mountains flatten. Canyons are carved where hills once stood. Mana is ripped from the air, leaving a silence more terrifying than any scream. When the light fades¡ª A crater remains. Miles wide. Scorched black. The land is warped, spiraling out from the impact like a cyclone frozen in stone. The smoke rises slowly, carried by a dead wind. Embers drift across the shattered crater, settling on molten stone and fractured earth like snow from a ruined world. At the center, two figures remain standing. Carwel coughs, blood running down the side of his face. One arm hangs useless at his side, his armor shattered in several places. His breathing is ragged. Beside him, Tandu sways slightly, half of his axe gone¡ªmelted away. His stone-forged skin is cracked, glowing faintly at the seams. But he''s alive. Barely. Across from them, Gander lies motionless. His body is broken. Not like before¡ªbeyond repair. The cursed threads that once knit him together now fray, struggling to hold his form intact. One eye glows weakly through the cracked seam of his mask. Tandu stares down at him. "Damn bastard..." he breathes, voice rough and shaking. "You''re really strong." He wipes blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. "No wonder you injured Lord Astram." Gander doesn''t respond at first. He can''t. His limbs won''t move. Not even his fingers. Inside, his thoughts are slow, muddled, bleeding from exhaustion and pain. Should I just end it now? It would be easy. A final curse, one that eats his own heart. He has the runes for it etched beneath his skin. Just one trigger. But... His mind drifts¡ªto him. To Alix. To the moment of his revival. The faint light, the voice calling him back. His king''s voice. His Majesty''s hands gripping the shattered locket and pouring in the gold. So much gold. He knows. He knows the toll. And it wasn''t just the cost. Alix had looked at him¡ªnot like a weapon, not like a cursed thing¡ªbut like a person. Like someone worth the price. Gander''s eye dims. How would he feel... if I just threw that away? But before he can decide¡ª A pulse of air. A crack in the wind. A figure slams into the crater between them with a burst of wind and crimson light, kicking up a cloud of soot and ash. The earth beneath the impact shatters. Tandu stumbles back a step, weapon half-raised in reflex. Carwel''s eyes widen. "What¡ª" The dust clears. A long coat ripples. A shadow stands straight, eyes burning with clean, cold fury. Alix. He doesn''t look at Tandu or Carwel. Not yet. His gaze goes straight to Gander. Gander''s eye flickers wide. His lips crack open. "Y-Your Majesty..." he croaks. "You''re here...!" For the first time, something breaks in his voice¡ªnot defiance, not venom. Just raw relief. Alix kneels beside him in a flash, one hand already glowing with warm light, the other steadying Gander''s head. "You held them off," Alix said. "I''m proud of what you did." Gander tries to laugh, but only blood escapes his lips. "I... couldn''t die before you got here." Alix doesn''t hesitate. From his coat, he pulls out a sleek, obsidian vial laced with golden filigree¡ªan high-grade elixir potent enough to stabilize someone at death''s edge for minutes, maybe seconds more. He uncorks it with a flick of his thumb and presses it gently to the edge of Gander''s cracked mask. "Drink this," he says firmly. Gander coughs again, but he drinks¡ªhis throat convulsing to force it down. Within moments, the potion works. The runes along his arms stop fraying, the worst of the bleeding slows, and his breathing evens slightly. "I''ll do the rest later," Alix says quietly. "Just stay with me." Then, slowly, Alix rises. He turns. Now he faces the two monsters¡ªTandu and Carwel. Their auras are still massive, burning and trembling from the aftermath of Tier 6 convergence. Tandu eyes him, scoffing with blood in his teeth. "And here I thought a great enemy had arrived," he growls. "But what is this? A Tier 5 ant?" He gestures mockingly with his half-melted axe. "Why would trash like you even bother showing up here?" Carwel doesn''t speak, but his eyes narrow, watching¡ªwaiting. Alix doesn''t answer. Instead, he exhales once¡ªand the air shudders. A sharp click sounds as Alix snaps his fingers¡ªand in that instant, thirteen rings of mana ignite around him. Buff after buff unfurls in rapid succession, crashing into his body like divine chains latching into place. One. Two. Five. Thirteen. Each one pulses with ancient power¡ªspeed, strength, regeneration, reflex, defense, aura amplification, precision, willpower reinforcement, element harmonization... The sky ripples as if a second sun has risen inside the crater. And then¡ª His aura explodes. A tidal wave of pressure floods the battlefield. The very earth cracks beneath his feet, the crater groaning as if rejecting the mana weight pressing down. The sky above bends inward, clouds swirling into a spiral vortex directly over Alix''s head. Carwel flinches. "What... the hell?" Tandu staggers a step back. His pupils dilate. "That can''t be Tier 5," he mutters. "That''s not Tier 5..." Alix''s eyes glow like twin suns. His voice is steady, quiet¡ªbut it cuts through the roar like a blade. "You made three mistakes." Tandu grits his teeth. "What did you say?" "One," Alix continues, raising a finger, "you underestimated him." He glances at Gander. "Even now, he''s still alive." "Two¡ª" Alix steps forward, the ground shattering under each step, "you assumed my Tier defines my threat." He stops just a few meters away. "And three..." He raises his hand, his aura tightening into a single, focused point of lethal calm. "You spoke to me like I was prey." The words land heavier than any spell. For a heartbeat, no one moves. Then Carwel suddenly swears under his breath. "This is bad... This feels like when we faced Lord Astram." Tandu''s jaw clenches. "Don''t joke like that. There''s no way¡ªhe''s just Tier 5!" "Do you feel like that matters right now?" Carwel snaps, eyes wide. "I don''t care what Tier he says he is¡ªlook at that aura. That''s not something we can deal with." Tandu hesitates, sweat breaking across his forehead despite the molten cracks on his body. The weight pressing down on them is suffocating. He tries to laugh, but it comes out shaky. "Shit... you might be right." Carwel doesn''t wait. He turns in an instant. "We''re leaving. Now." Tandu snarls, still staring at Alix. But after a long second, he growls, "Next time, then." And then they rise¡ªmana flaring, launching them into the sky like twin bolts of fleeing lightning. Alix doesn''t move. He watches them disappear into the swirling clouds above. Chapter 170 172: Heartroot Elixir – Tier 10 Grade Potion Only when their presence vanishes completely¡ªwhen the storm they left behind settles into silence¡ªdoes Alix allow his shoulders to ease. Just slightly. He turns back to Gander, still lying broken in the center of the ruined battlefield. Alix crouches beside him again. "They really gave you a beating, Gander." Gander forces a weak laugh, dry and ragged. "My apology, Your Majesty," he rasps. "I was already injured before the fight... my mana hadn''t recovered fully. If it had... I could''ve taken those two. Without a problem." Alix smiles faintly, the kind that doesn''t reach his eyes but carries warmth nonetheless. "It''s all good. You''re alive¡ªthat''s what matters." Without another word, Alix gently pulls Gander''s arm over his shoulder and rises, supporting his weight with practiced ease. Gander stumbles slightly, but Alix steadies him effortlessly. "You''ve done enough for today," Alix murmurs. They lift off from the crater, soaring above the devastation. Ash and soot spiral in their wake, the ruins of the Verid Hollow shrinking below them. They disappear into the sky, searching for a quiet place. A place to rest. To heal. ----- Velzar City. Two streaks of light tear across the dusk-lit sky, trailing smoke and fragmented mana. They fall fast¡ªtoo fast¡ªuntil they crash down before the obsidian gates of the castle. The force kicks up a gust of wind and scorched dust. The first guard steps forward instinctively, hand tightening around his halberd¡ªuntil his eyes adjust. "Sir Tandu!" he gasps. "Sir Carwel!" The two figures slump forward. Tandu drops to one knee, teeth bared in a snarl, blood smeared across his jaw. Carwel stays standing only because he''s leaning on the broken haft of his own weapon, his chest rising and falling with ragged effort. "Go," the first guard snaps to his companion, his voice sharp with urgency. "Get the healers. Now!" The second guard doesn''t hesitate. He bolts toward the inner gate, already flaring a signal rune in the air with his palm. ----- In the healing chamber, the two warriors¡ªTandu and Carwel¡ªcan finally sit upright without swaying. The pain still lingers, etched deep into their bones, but their breathing has steadied. Tandu spits a clot of blood onto the stone floor and exhales. "Alright," he grunts. "Stop the healing for now. I''ll go to Lord Astram and give the report¡ª" But before he can rise to his feet, the air shifts. A pressure rolls into the room like thunder before a storm. And then, he is there. The door creaks open without sound. A monster enters¡ªtall, armored in scales of glimmering obsidian green and iron-gray. The light seems to bend around his form. Lord Astram. "There''s no need," Astram says, his voice deep, metallic, and resonant. "You can report to me here." Tandu freezes. Carwel instinctively bows his head. Both speak as one, their voices strained but respectful. "My lord." The healers, sensing the change in atmosphere, bow quickly and file out without a word. Only Astram and the two warriors remain. Tandu lowers his head further, then straightens, still breathing hard. "Understood." He exchanges a glance with Carwel, then begins. "We found that person... the one we''ve only known as ''The Plague.'' Same abilities. Same cursed skills" He swallows, his voice quieter. Astram''s expression doesn''t change, but the light in his eyes sharpens slightly. "Go on." Tandu swallows, then straightens. "We engaged him," he begins. "He was already damaged when we arrived¡ªburned, cracked, leaking mana. Should''ve been a simple cleanup." Carwel shifts slightly, silent. "But it wasn''t," Tandu continues. "He withstood the first two volleys. Kept fighting. His skill¡ªXhar''s Final Stitch¡ªit''s... unnatural. He wouldn''t die." Astram''s eyes narrow faintly. Tandu presses on. "We had to use all our Tier 6 skills. Even then, the bastard stayed standing long enough to drag us into hell with him." There''s a pause. Tandu clenches his fists. "We did won, my lord. But..." Astram is quiet for a moment. His gaze flicks to Carwel, who nods grimly in confirmation. "...And then?" Astram asks. Tandu''s jaw tenses. "Someone appeared. Out of nowhere. The pressure he released¡ªhe shouldn''t be Tier 5, but that''s what our readings said. Even so... we couldn''t move. He made us retreat." Astram''s gaze doesn''t shift. His golden eyes bore into Tandu''s. "You ran." Tandu flinches, then drops to one knee again. "Yes, my lord." For a long moment, Astram says nothing. The silence hums with tension, like a string pulled taut. Finally, Astram speaks¡ªquietly. "...Heal yourselves," he says, turning slightly toward the window where dark clouds churn beyond the horizon. "I feel turmoil building on this continent. And when it arrives, I''ll need you at full strength." Neither Tandu nor Carwel respond immediately. They just nod, heads lowered, the weight of shame still pressing on their backs¡ªbut they accept the order. ---- In a quiet grove on the outskirts of the shattered battlefield, the wind brushes softly through fractured trees and the scorched grass is slowly regrowing where mana has begun to return. Alix kneels beside Gander, who''s now leaning against a slanted boulder, wrapped in a cloak to hide the worst of his wounds from the chill air. Alix pulls out a small vial in the inventory¡ªobsidian glass, etched with fine gold runes. Its contents glow a soft, pale amber that pulses like a heartbeat. The name etched beneath the seal reads: Heartroot Elixir ¨C Tier 10 Grade. Alix stares at it for a moment before exhaling softly. ''This thing cost me over ten thousand credits back in the game,'' he thought. ''Took a full month of raids, auctions, and trading. Just to get one.'' Alix gives a dry laugh, shaking his head. ''To people living well, maybe it''s nothing. Pocket change. But for someone like me... this was everything. I only bought it because I thought I''d need it for that raid.'' He uncorks the vial slowly. A delicate scent of warmth and rain-soaked earth rises from it¡ªold magic, potent and pure. He lifts the vial to Gander''s mouth. "Drink." The moment the liquid touches his tongue, his body jolts faintly. The glow spreads from his throat outward, pulsing into his chest, down his limbs. The cursed seams binding his body stabilize, then seal. The pale rot threading his veins vanishes one line at a time. The air grows still. Gander exhales, clearer now. "...I feel like I just drank a divine water." "You did," Alix says quietly. "Now don''t waste it." He stands, brushing dust from his coat, but doesn''t look away from Gander. "Rest. When you''re able to move, we''ve got planning to do." ---- Back to the Three Kingdoms Continent. The war grinds forward like a relentless beast. Smoke rises over the scarred plains of eastern Valgros. Once lush, now cratered and burning. Black banners marked with bone sigils march forward in unison. At the head of the invasion, General Gorath stands atop a ridge of shattered stone, his monstrous frame wrapped in thick armor. His voice is like a boulder crashing through a battlefield. "Push forward. No quarter. I want that fortress turned to ash tonight." Behind him, the Bonepiercers Legion advances like a wall of death¡ªcold, merciless, tireless. Beside Gorath, General Varkas rides a plated dreadmaw. He grins behind a cracked helm. "Keep on attacking. They''ll break soon." To the left and right, the four commanders fan out¡ªeach a nightmare in motion. Sorin, her twin sabers dripping with the blood of scouts, moves like a shadow through the battlefield, silent and vicious. Thurn, cloaked in skittering webs, commands a swarm of venomous arachnids and monsters that overrun trenches before any soldier can scream. Nyssara, blade-limbed and bearing a massive shield, sweeps across the walls of Fort Relan with her folded weapons drawn. Each swing is a storm of metal and blood. Veltha, coiling through the grass, chants in a long-forgotten tongue. The ground trembles beneath her spells, and entire battalions of Valgros soldiers fall screaming as the earth transforms into a marshland. "Push them back!" Asdri roars, surging forward once more, lightning dancing across his blade. His cloak is in tatters, his armor scorched¡ªbut his eyes burn with defiance. Behind him, the Golden Lion Legion crashes into the enemy lines like a tidal wave of steel and flame. Their golden banners ripple with every clash, every step forward. Pyke, his chest still bleeding, slams his war axe into a marrow hound, crushing bone and sending splinters flying. "These things just keep coming!" "Keep your line tight!" Ingra shouts, casting a barrier of frost as another wight lunges. Her magic flickers, weaker now, but her will remains iron. "We fall back now, and they''ll overrun the city!" Valia floats above, pale light trailing from her fingers as she heals a downed knight. Her voice rings clear. "Their commander¡ªGorath. Let''s try taking him down this time, the legion might collapse!" The fight rages on for hours. Steel clashes, spells detonate, cries of rage and pain echo across the battlefield. The sun has dipped behind thick clouds of smoke and dust, and both armies bleed from every edge. Even the monsters seem to slow. Even the elites falter. Asdri, breathing heavily, blocks another blow from Gorath''s massive fist. Sparks fly. Their weapons lock, and for the first time since the battle began, their eyes meet¡ªclose, tired, blazing. "You''re always been persistent," Gorath growls, voice like grinding stone. "But your men are gasping." "So are yours," Asdri mutters, forcing Gorath back with a surge of lightning. He takes two shaky steps, then stops. Gorath pauses. Looks across the torn battlefield. His Bonepiercers are still fighting, but the regular soldiers are at their limit. The Golden Lions fare no better¡ªgolden cloaks soaked in red, armor dulled, spells half-cast from trembling hands. Chapter 171 - 173: The Sealed Relic Asdri lifts his hand high, palm glowing. "Cease! All units, pull back!" Across the field, commanders on both sides echo the call. Horns sound. Shouts rise. The storm stills. Sorin lowers her blades, blood dripping from her chin. They all recalled thier units. Thurn recalls his swarm, skittering like a tide back into the trenches. Nyssara withdraws from the walls with her units, her shield dragging behind her, cracked but unbroken. Veltha slithers away, her eyes still glowing, mouth tight. Ingra slumps down, breathing hard. "Finally..." Pyke plants his axe and leans on it. "Thought I was gonna die at least three times." Valia floats to Asdri''s side, silent. Her magic is almost gone. Asdri watches Gorath turn. The general doesn''t say anything more¡ªjust raises a hand, and the Bonepiercers begin to march. Away. Asdri waits until their shadows vanish into the smoke before speaking again. "We''ve been defending this place for five days now," he mutters, still staring into the haze. "They hit, we hold, then both sides bleed and retreat." Valia nods grimly. "Neither of us can break the other." "Not yet," Asdri says quietly. "But the longer this goes, the more men we lose. We''re buying time, not victory." As the wounded are carried away and the fires smothered, the command tent is set up quickly on the edge of the ravaged field. The map of Valgros lies at the center, marked with fresh blood and ash-stained lines. Ingra sets down her staff and glares at the war map. "Does your father have a plan?" she asks, her voice low but edged with fatigue. "If this keeps up... we''ll be forced to fall back again. At this rate, we''ll be fighting in the shadow of the capital walls." Asdri doesn''t look up right away. He traces a finger along the red markers encroaching from the east. Then he nods. "He does," he says. "He''s already on his way to the kingdoms across the sea¡ªon the neighboring continent." Valia, who''s sitting near the edge of the tent, gently cleaning a bloodied dagger, lifts her eyes. There''s worry in them. "Is that really okay?" she asks quietly. "You told us before... those kingdoms, they look down on Valgros. Aren''t they just going to mock your father? Refuse to help?" Ingra scoffs. "They''ll see us as weak. Beggars in royal clothes." Asdri finally looks up. He meets both their gazes steadily. "Don''t worry," he says. "We''re not going to them with open hands. We''re bringing something they can''t ignore. Something they want." Ingra crosses her arms, one brow raised. "And what would that be?" Asdri''s lips twitch into a faint, grim smile. "A weapon. One we''ve never used." Valia frowns. "Wait... you mean¡ª?" He nods. "The relic I always told you all. Buried beneath Highspire. The one sealed generations ago." Ingra''s expression hardens. "You''re serious. You said that thing hasn''t been touched in over a thousand years. There''s a reason it was sealed." "I know," Asdri says. "But this is no longer about pride or tradition. We can''t win this alone. And the moment the other continent hears we''re willing to unseal it..." "They''ll come running," Valia finishes, voice quiet. "Even if just to keep it from falling into someone else''s hands." Asdri straightens, his armor creaking. "Exactly. It''s a risk. But the time for playing fair ended when that giant Gorath stepped foot on our soil." Silence stretches for a moment. Then Ingra lets out a slow breath. "Alright. What do you need from us?" Asdri leans forward over the war table, the flickering lantern light casting shadows across his dirt-smeared face. His hand rests near the mark representing the next city behind their current position¡ªa small dot compared to the looming mass of enemy red. "We still need to hold this line tomorrow," he says, his voice low but firm. "If we can''t... we fall back to Braenhall." Valia frowns. "Braenhall''s barely fortified. It won''t last for two three days, if they bring those Bonepiercers." "I know," Asdri replies. "But it''s the only fallback point we''ve got left before the capital." Ingra paces along the edge of the tent, arms folded, lips pressed tight. "You think we''ll even make it that far? They''re pressing harder with every wave." "That''s why we can''t break," Asdri says, looking up at both of them. "We fight tomorrow. We hold if we can. If we can''t..." He exhales slowly. "Then we retreat. Buy more time." ---- The next day dawns in firelight. Ash still clings to the sky, and the wind howls like a warning across the battlefield. The remains of yesterday''s clash smolder quietly¡ªblackened armor, shattered weapons, craters of dried blood. But there''s no time to mourn. The next storm is already forming. Atop a jagged bluff overlooking Fort Relan, Gorath stands like a mountain, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the distant enemy lines. His breath mists in the morning chill, despite the heat still simmering in the soil beneath his boots. He speaks without turning. "Varkas. Today, we break them. No stalemates. No retreats. We push them all the way to the next city." Behind him, Varkas sits astride his dreadmaw, the beast shifting restlessly beneath him. His cracked helm gleams faintly in the sickly light. He scoffs, amused. "As long as you get serious and stop holding back," Varkas says, gripping the reins tighter. "Last three times, you''ve been playing with them." Gorath chuckles, low and rumbling. "Haha... you can tell?" Varkas grins. "Of course I can tell." "They''re interesting, these humans," Gorath mutters, a glint of something close to admiration in his eyes. "Always cornered. Always bleeding. But they never stop pushing back. Makes for a good fight." He finally turns to face Varkas, the wind snapping his torn cloak. His voice grows darker. "But playtime''s over." Varkas leans forward, tapping the beast''s flank. "Good. I''m tired of circling. Let''s crush them." Gorath narrows his eyes as he watches the enemy banners flicker in the distance. The air crackles with tension. His voice is low. "You really like that beast of yours," he says, nodding toward the dreadmaw beneath Varkas. "Ever since you first found it." Varkas chuckles, resting a gauntleted hand on the dreadmaw''s armored neck. The creature snarls softly, eyes burning red. "Of course I do," he replies. "Even if I can''t get stronger anymore, this beast changed everything. It''s like... I''m fighting with a second body now. My strength isn''t just mine¡ªit''s ours." He grins, the expression sharp behind his helm. "Sometimes, I think I could even take you down with it." Gorath huffs a short laugh. Not mocking¡ªjust amused. "Ohh? Then we''ll put that to the test... one day. When the war''s done." Varkas tilts his head. "Looking forward to it." Gorath lifts a fist. "But for now... we conquer this kingdom. For our king." Varkas raises his own hand in response. No more words needed. Two horns echo across the broken plains. From the bluffs to the ruins, the Bonepiercers begin to move. The dreadmaw rears up, roaring loud enough to shake the stones beneath it. The sky is a tapestry of fire and steel. As the horns cry out, both armies surge forward like colliding oceans. Spears lower, shields rise, and magic flares across the horizon in wild, chaotic bursts. The air splits with screams and war cries as metal tears into flesh. The ground quakes beneath the charge. And at the heart of the chaos¡ªAsdri and his companions sprint directly toward the towering figure of Gorath. He stands like a living mountain in the center of the field, ten meters of sheer muscle and stone-forged armor. As he moves, each step sends tremors through the soil. His warhammer, taller than most men, rests against his shoulder like a toy. Asdri leads the charge, lightning coursing over his blade. "We end this today!" he shouts. Pyke barrels in beside him, roaring. "About damn time!" Ingra flanks left, her staff already aglow with frost. Valia hovers behind them, her eyes narrowed, runes glowing at her fingertips. Gorath sees them coming. He doesn''t flinch. He slams his warhammer into the ground¡ªand the earth responds. A violent shockwave ripples outward, throwing soldiers and stone alike into the air. Spires of jagged rock erupt from the ground in a twisting wall¡ªbut Asdri leaps through them, lightning flashing across his body. He slashes down hard¡ª Gorath raises his hand. Stone forms a shield across his forearm just in time. Asdri''s blade crashes into it with a sound like thunder splitting the sky. Sparks erupt, but the giant doesn''t budge. "You''ve gotten bolder," Gorath growls. "And you''re still slow!" Asdri retorts, ducking a massive swing of the hammer that cracks the ground beside him. Pyke lunges in with a battle cry, axe raised high. He slams it into Gorath''s thigh armor¡ªonly to be swatted away by a sweep of Gorath''s arm like a man brushing aside a gnat. Pyke crashes into a boulder, coughing blood. Ingra steps in, shouting, "Glacialis!" A wave of frost sweeps across Gorath''s legs, locking them in ice. For a moment¡ªjust a moment¡ªhe''s still. Valia raises both hands, golden chains of light spiraling into the air. "Divine Seal!" The chains lash forward, wrapping around Gorath''s arms and chest, glowing fiercely. "Hngh," Gorath grunts. He strains¡ªand the chains begin to crack. Asdri doesn''t wait. He charges in again, lightning trailing from his blade like a comet. He slashes upward, then down¡ªstrike after strike, each one landing with enough force to echo across the battlefield. Gorath growls, staggered slightly. "Give me more," he snarls between strikes. "Is this all you''ve got? You won''t take me down with this." The chains shatter. Gorath slams his fists into the earth again¡ªand a stone golem bursts from the ground beside him. It''s massive, crude, but fast¡ªand it lunges straight at Ingra. "Ingra, move!" Valia shouts. Chapter 172 - 174: Varkas And His Beast Ingra turns just in time to raise her barrier¡ªbut the golem smashes into it, shattering it on impact. She stumbles back, gasping. Asdri grits his teeth. "Valia! Focus fire on the golem!" "Already on it!" She hurls a volley of searing holy lances¡ªpiercing into the golem''s chest, slowing it. Gorath moves again. He lifts one foot and slams it down¡ªthe earth beneath Asdri drops as if the ground itself is rejecting him. A sinkhole forms, pulling Asdri in. Asdri reacts instantly¡ªlightning bursts from his boots as he launches upward, flipping over Gorath''s shoulder and striking from behind. The blade sinks in¡ªa shallow wound across the back of the giant''s neck. Gorath roars, spinning with impossible speed. His elbow catches Asdri mid-air and sends him flying, crashing into a broken siege tower. "You''ve improved," Gorath says, voice like a landslide. "But not enough." As Asdri crashes into the wreckage, half-buried in splinters and blood, the sky flashes red. The temperature drops¡ªthen rises sharply. Mana begins to warp and ripple, thickening the air like a storm about to break. Gorath straightens slowly. The battlefield churns around him¡ªscreams, steel, thunder¡ªbut his presence eclipses it all. And then¡ª His aura detonates. The earth buckles outward in a perfect ring. Wind is driven back. Light warps. Dust is sucked in toward his feet like the breath of some colossal beast. "Enough warm-up," he rumbles, raising one massive hand to the sky. "Tier Five: Seismic Dominion." The ground beneath the entire battlefield shifts. Great rifts open in the soil, trenches exploding outward in all directions. Bones, weapons, even buried siege are cast into the air. Entire platoons fall screaming into the sudden canyons that yawn across the warfront. From one of the cliffs, Varkas watches grimly. "There it is," he murmurs. Asdri staggers from the rubble, eyes wide as the land itself rebels beneath his feet. "Damn it... This skill is ridiculous!" Valia grits her teeth and throws up a radiant dome just in time to shield her group from a cascade of falling debris. "That skill''s not just terrain manipulation¡ªit''s reshaping the battlefield!" Gorath steps forward, slowly, calmly. Each step sends tremors outward. Magic flares around his form in earthen hues¡ªbrown, copper, molten gold. Then he vanishes. A blur¡ªimpossible for his size. He reappears directly in front of Pyke, who barely manages to raise his axe in time. "Tier 5: Colossus Wrath." The warhammer descends¡ªwreathed in elemental fury. When it strikes Pyke''s weapon, the sheer force shatters the axe at its haft and launches Pyke like a cannonball across the battlefield, crashing into a line of enemy pikemen. Ingra cries out, eyes flashing. She thrusts her staff forward. "Tier 5: Crystal Cage!" Ice erupts in a dome around Gorath¡ªjagged and reinforced with layered mana. Spikes rush inward to impale him¡ª "Tier 5: Unyielding Core." A dull pulse of power flares from Gorath''s chest¡ªand the ice instantly shatters into dust, unable to even pierce his aura. "Ice and light," he growls. "Fragile things." He lifts one hand¡ªand makes a fist. A pulse surges outward. "Tier 4: Earthcall." Dozens of jagged stone arms rise from the ground like the limbs of titans, swatting soldiers, deflecting arrows, impaling horses mid-gallop. A barrier of terrain reshapes around Gorath¡ªhostile and shifting, protecting him as he walks. Valia clenches her jaw. "We can''t break through like this..." Asdri plants his feet. His armor hums with latent energy, sparking with arcs of raw lightning. "Then we stop holding back." ------ On the other side of the battlefield. Smoke coils through the wreckage of fallen siege engines. Flames flicker from shattered watchtowers. Among the chaos, two figures stand alone¡ªmotionless, yet immense in presence. One of them is Varkas, his dreadmaw prowling beside him like a shadow of death. Armor cracked, gauntlets stained, he exhales steam through his helm, eyes gleaming beneath it. Opposite him, boots crunch through the gravel. Marshal Tesvin walks forward, his cloak billowing in the wind, torn but proud. His left arm hangs slightly heavier than the right¡ªnot from injury, but from the Tier Six sword it bears. The blade is long, straight, and gleams with ancient, silver runes etched deep into its core. Its edge pulses faintly, as if sensing the monster before it. Varkas grins slowly as Tesvin approaches. "Oh," he growls, voice guttural, unnatural, echoing in his throat. "You''re finally here." Tesvin stops, meeting his gaze. His jaw is tight. His armor is scorched in places. Blood stains his side¡ªbut his grip on the sword is unwavering. "This time," Tesvin says, voice low, resolute, "I will give it my all. It''s either you die... or I do." Varkas throws his head back and laughs, a deep, bestial sound that rumbles through the air. He cracks his neck¡ªa sickening crunch¡ªand his limbs twist and stretch, bulking grotesquely. Fur begins to crawl from beneath his armor, shredding through the seams. His jaw elongates, teeth warping into blackened fangs. "I see, the as a courtesy, you''ll see my real strength today, Marshal." Tesvin braces. "Then take off the mask." With a roar, Varkas lunges. The ground trembles beneath his charge. The dreadmaw follows, its monstrous claws gouging trenches in the earth, eyes glowing red like coals in the night. Marshal Tesvin doesn''t flinch. He steps forward¡ªcalm, precise¡ªand draws. The Tier Six sword hums like a living thing, its blade singing as it cuts the air. The runes along its surface ignite. A gale bursts outward as Tesvin swings. "Tier Four: Wind Lash." A razor-thin crescent of wind tears across the field, striking Varkas mid-leap. Blood sprays as the arc slices across his shoulder¡ªbut the Lycan doesn''t slow. He twists through it, landing on all fours with a snarl. The dreadmaw veers right¡ªcircling wide, its flanks rippling with energy. "Now!" Varkas shouts. The beast reacts instantly. The dreadmaw releases a guttural, echoing cry¡ªdark soundwaves ripple out like a tide. The moment they reach Tesvin, the air thickens around his joints¡ªslowing his limbs, warping his balance. But the Marshal reacts fast. "Tier 4: Wind Reversal." A cyclonic burst erupts around him, shattering the soundwaves, clearing the fog from his muscles. Dust and blood spiral outward as he dashes forward with inhuman speed. Their weapons clash. Steel against claw. Varkas slashes low with monstrous speed, his claw a blur¡ªTesvin twists, deflecting with the flat of his sword, then counters with a high arc. The blade burns with wind, and the air screams as it descends. It carves across Varkas''s chest, blood spraying, the cut deep. Varkas growls, but his grin never fades. "You''ve gotten faster," he snarls. "But you''re still human." He moves¡ªand the dreadmaw is already there. It vanishes in a burst of shadowed mana¡ª "Tier 4: Beast Step." ¡ªand reappears behind Tesvin, jaws wide. Its fangs crash toward him like twin guillotines¡ªbut Tesvin turns mid-spin, blade flashing upward in a rising arc. "Tier 5: Tempest Wall!" The sword howls as a cyclone bursts from the edge, a vertical wall of spiraling wind. The dreadmaw''s fangs slam into it¡ªand recoil, bloodied and dazed, its head flung back with a wounded shriek. Tesvin uses the momentum¡ªlaunching himself skyward in the spiral of wind, then diving toward Varkas, sword reversed. He strikes downward¡ª ¡ªbut Varkas catches the blade. His claws dig into the edge, blood pouring down his arms, but he holds it. His muscles swell¡ªhe used his tier 5 bloodline skill. Fur covers him now. His armor hangs in tatters. He looms, massive and feral. "You''re not the only one with technique," he growls. "Tier 4: Predator''s Wrath!" Varkas spins, dragging the blade with him¡ªslamming Tesvin into the ground with a thunderous crash. The Marshal''s breath leaves him in a gasp as the ground craters around his body. Before Tesvin can rise, the dreadmaw charges again. Its claws glow with dark energy¡ªdriving straight toward his chest¡ª "Tier 4: Vortex Guard!" Tesvin''s sword flashes, stabbing into the dirt. A spiraling shield of wind explodes outward, deflecting the claws at the last second and hurling the beast back with an angry roar. Tesvin rolls, coughing blood, then leaps to his feet. The sword''s wind pulses, responding to his fury. "You''ll need more than monsters and brute force," he growls. "I came prepared." He raises the blade high. "Tier 5: Sovereign Gale." The sky splits. A lance of pure wind energy crashes down from above, spearing toward both Varkas and the dreadmaw like divine judgment. Varkas snarls¡ªhis form blurs¡ª "Tier 4: Pack Instinct!" He moves with the dreadmaw as one¡ªboth beasts dashing apart at the same instant, avoiding the full brunt. But the shockwave still hits. Trees are uprooted. Rocks are obliterated. The battlefield howls under the sheer pressure. The smoke clears. Varkas stands crouched, panting, blood streaming from his side. The dreadmaw beside him, one leg dragging, its flank scorched by the aftermath of Sovereign Gale. Both bear wounds¡ªbut both still stand. Across from them, Marshal Tesvin is on one knee, sword plunged into the earth to keep him upright. His breathing is labored. Blood seeps from a gash across his temple. His armor is cracked in three places, and his cape lies in tatters behind him. "...Still breathing," Varkas mutters. A flicker of movement. The dreadmaw circles wide again¡ªlimping, but still deadly. Varkas exhales, the last of his transformation locking into place. "You pushed us," Varkas says. "But you''re slowing. Your wind''s dying down." Tesvin grips his blade tighter. "Then I''ll cut you with my last breath." He charges, feet kicking up gravel. But Varkas doesn''t meet him head-on this time. He sidesteps¡ªquick, almost graceful¡ªand the dreadmaw strikes from behind. A vortex of shadow and force bursts from its throat, swallowing Tesvin mid-stride and flinging him sideways into a boulder. The rock cracks under the impact, and Tesvin crumples with a grunt. Chapter 173 - 175: Tesvin Death The battle rages on for another hour. Steel clashes. Magic detonates. Blood soaks the ground as corpses pile and banners fall. The field is chaos incarnate¡ªcommanders shouting, beasts roaring, spells screaming through the air. Yet even with the power of the Link Skill binding Asdri and his companions can only fight to a standstill. Every blow is matched. Every advance is repelled. Gorath, wreathed in his earthen domain. Valia and Ingra stand at Asdri''s flanks, bodies bruised, armor cracked, but eyes unyielding. Behind them, the Golden Lion Legion fights tooth and nail, holding the lines against the monstrous Bonepiercers. Asdri growls, lightning dancing along his gauntlet. "He''s not weakening." "Neither are we," Valia pants, sword resting on her shoulder for just a breath. "But this stalemate won''t last forever." A distant crash¡ªthen a scream. One of the soldiers from the central line turns, eyes wide in panic. "The Marshal! Marshal Tesvin is¡ªhe''s...!" His voice breaks. The battlefield stutters for a heartbeat. Another soldier shouts, louder this time. "Marshal Tesvin is dead!" The words crash into Asdri like a hammer. He turns¡ªinstinctively, disbelieving¡ªtoward the distant ridge where Tesvin fought. Smoke coils above it. A ring of shattered terrain surrounds the cratered rock. Silence steals over him, even amidst the roar of war. Valia''s mouth opens slightly. Ingra''s fingers tighten around her staff. Asdri''s gaze drops. He doesn''t say anything for a long moment. Then softly, hoarsely, "...He really...?" No one answers. He closes his eyes. His throat tightens. "We are..." he begins, then falters. "We are not that close. But still..." His voice thins. "He helped me. Trained me when others wouldn''t. When I kept failing the forms, he never mocked me¡ªjust said to try again." A bitter breath escapes him. "I never even thanked him properly." Lightning flickers along his shoulders, angrier this time. Sharper. However, like a falling line of dominoes, it begins. One unit breaks¡ªthen another. Panic spreads through the soldiers ranks like wildfire. Arrows rain down, monstrous howls echo in the smoke, and soldiers are dragged screaming into the shifting earth summoned by Gorath. The frontline buckles. Bodies collapse in bloodied heaps. A commander is ripped from horseback by Nyssara''s brute, his armor shredded in seconds. Asdri watches it unfold¡ªhis vision narrowing. "No..." he breathes. A healer cries out for protection before she''s speared. A squad of spearmen is swallowed whole by rising stone. Ingra stumbles, barely shielding Valia from a lunging beast. One wrong decision more, and the entire left flank will collapse. "Prince!" a commander shouts, panic straining his voice. "We have to fall back¡ªnow!" Asdri''s hands tremble. Not from fear. From fury. He looks around¡ªthe battlefield is lost. This isn''t just a retreat. It''s a collapse. And if they don''t pull out now, no one will make it to the next city. "Everyone¡ªRETREAT!" Asdri''s voice roars through the battlefield, empowered with command. "Fall back to Braenhall! Regroup! Get the wounded and MOVE!" The order crashes over the battlefield like thunder. "RETREAT!" The cry is picked up by captains, sergeants, squad leaders. Horns sound¡ªragged, frantic. The Golden Lion Legion turns in unison, pulling back in fractured waves. Shields raise, mages cover, archers fire blindly to slow the advance. Chaos reigns, but it is a directed chaos now¡ªguided by desperation and the prince''s command. Monsters charge after them, bone-plated hulks and twisted beasts tearing through the dirt, sensing weakness, sensing prey. Asdri doesn''t move. He stands at the center of the crumbling field, lightning crackling across his armor, eyes fixed on the encroaching tide of enemies. Valia skids to a stop beside him. "Asdri, we have to go!" "I know," he mutters, voice low, calm¡ªtoo calm. He raises one gauntlet toward the sky. "But they won''t reach the others. Not while I stand." His gaze sharpens. "Link." There''s no hesitation. Not from them. Light flashes between their chests¡ªgolden threads of magic binding them to him once more. The Link Skill surges to life. Ingra breathes deeply. "I''ll use Glacial Crest." Asdri closes his eyes, steeling himself. One by one, the others use their strongest Tier 4 skills. Their power flows through him. He slams both hands into the blood-soaked earth. The ground erupts beneath his feet. Light tears upward into the sky¡ªraw, jagged, and blinding. Thunder cracks like a celestial whip as a towering wall of energy carves itself across the battlefield, dividing retreating soldiers from the advancing enemy. But it''s not just light. It''s a fusion everyone''s skills, all layered into one colossal barrier. A wall of blazing storm-fire and crystalline ice surges across the land, stretching hundreds of meters, reinforced by runes burning along its edge. The monsters slam into it¡ªand are thrown back. Bonepiercers screech, their claws blackening as they try to climb it. Stone-skinned beasts are frozen mid-leap. The sky churns above it, caught in the cyclone of colliding forces. Pyke staggers, grabbing Asdri''s shoulder. "That wall... it''ll hold for a few minutes. Maybe." "Then that''s enough," he gasps. His knees buckle, but he doesn''t fall. Valia''s hand trembles as she maintains her link. "Your body can''t take much more of this, Asdri¡ªstop channeling!" "I can''t," he says through gritted teeth, sparks leaping across his back. "Not yet." He watches as the last units of the Golden Lion Legion retreat over the ridge. Horses gallop. Stretchers bounce on wounded shoulders. The city of Braenhall lies distant¡ªbut reachable. Only when the final banner disappears behind the hills does he let go. The wall begins to crack. Valia catches him as he falls to one knee. "It''s done. They''re safe." Asdri breathes, slow and ragged. "...Then let''s go." Across the battlefield, Gorath watches them vanish through the smoke¡ªfive silhouettes slipping behind the dying glow of the wall. The massive earth-wielding monster doesn''t move for a long moment. The heat from the barrier still radiates in the air, blistering even his reinforced hide. The ground is carved and scorched in a vast arc, the air crackling with residue. The wall groans, splits, then finally collapses into dust and shards of spent magic. Gorath narrows his eyes, jagged stone still curling protectively around his shoulders. "...So that''s what it looks like," he rumbles, voice deep and dry as grinding gravel. "A link-empowered Tier 4 skills." Behind him, the monsters begin to cheer, raising guttural roars into the sky, pounding their claws against armor, biting at the air, howling with savage joy. Another victory. Another win. But Gorath doesn''t celebrate. ---- By the time Gander can stand on his own, the grove is bathed in twilight. Birds have begun to return. Mana hums softly through the grass and trees, as if nature itself knows a storm has passed¡ªbut not for long. Alix watches Gander roll his shoulder, testing his strength. The monster''s once-warped flesh is whole again, his aura stabilized, his movements crisp and controlled. Still monstrous, yes¡ªbut no longer cracked and near-collapse. "Better?" Alix asks. Gander grins. "Yes, your majesty. I could take on those two right now." Alix chuckles quietly. "No need. That fight''s over." He steps forward and pulls a shimmering black card from his inventory¡ªits surface etched with golden runes, pulsing faintly with transformation magic. Without ceremony, he flicks it toward Gander. It dissolves in midair, releasing a stream of spectral threads that wrap around his body. Gander''s body shifts as the magic threads pull tight. His stitched flesh warps slightly, seams realigning, limbs adjusting, frame bending subtly into a new form. Patchwork look of his old body. In its place stands a sleeker creature, taller, draped in shadow-flesh bound by thin arcane cables. His frame is elongated, his joints sharper, his limbs more fluid¡ªlike a shadow stitched into a body and given form. "Still me," Gander rasps, his voice even more distorted now, a whisper layered with echo. "But... improved." Alix nods. "You look less like walking surgery and more like an executioner now." He pulls out a second item¡ªa simple, dull-gray ring. Ordinary-looking, but its center pulses with a strange internal rhythm. ''A gift from a hidden merchant quest,'' Alix thought. He hands it over. "Put it on." Gander does. The moment the ring slips over his clawed finger, a soft veil of mana ripples outward¡ªsubtle, precise, and suffocatingly effective. Gander''s terrifying Tier 6 aura fades like a candle under glass, vanishing entirely. "Even someone like Astram wouldn''t be able to tell," Alix says, crossing his arms. ----- The Ashen Woods greet them not with hostility¡ªbut with silence. When Alix and Gander cross into the twisted forest, there''s a pause, a shift in the air¡ªas though the forest itself recognizes them. Dozens of eyes peek from the dark: monster beasts with moss-covered spines, creatures made of bone and ash, hybrids of claw and flame. None attack. They simply watch. Then, one by one, they begin to lower their heads. A hulking beast with molten cracks along its jaw lumbers forward. It snorts once, heavy steam curling from its nostrils, then gives a slow nod. "The new commander that defeated Lathar," it rumbles, voice like stone dragged across stone. "We sensed your mark the moment you stepped in." Alix stops in the clearing and regards them coolly. "You all already knows. I''m the new commander of this base," he says. None challenge the claim. Instead, another monster¡ªone with three jagged wings and no eyes¡ªchitters softly. "Then we follow." By the time Alix and Gander reach the outpost, the sky has turned a dusty red, the kind of twilight that stains wood and stone with soft gloom. The base sprawls like a small town¡ªcrude but functional¡ªlined with barracks, supply depots, smithies, and a central command hall made of reinforced stone and dark timber. Chapter 174 - 176: Asking For Help Alix and Gander walks through the open gate, Alix''s steps light but certain. Soldiers nod as he passes, unsure whether to salute or avert their gaze. He doesn''t stop for any of them. He heads straight for the command building at the center of the base. Inside, it''s quiet¡ªlit by a few crystal lamps and filled with the soft rustling of parchment and the faint scrape of quills. Past the hall, through the war room, and into the private quarters behind it, he finds Lathar. The former commander sits behind a broad desk, half-buried in maps and reports. His expression is a blend of annoyance and fatigue, eyes flicking from paper to paper until he senses the figure at the door. He looks up. "Well, well," Lathar says flatly. "You finally decided to come back." Alix said smirking. "I''m sure you''re loving what you are doing right now.." Lathar exhales slowly, fingers rubbing his forehead. "I''m not arguing with you anymore. I''ll lose." A pause. Then he leans back and gestures toward a sealed envelope on the desk. "There''s a meeting," he says. "Main base. They''ve called all the commanders." Alix tilts his head. "Urgent?" "Feels like it." Lathar glances sideways. "They don''t call everyone unless something big''s shifting. You know how rare it is for all regional commanders to be summoned at once?" Alix takes the envelope and tucks it into his inventory. "I''ll go." --- They arrive at the main base''s teleportation station in a shimmer of light and humming mana. Gander is still with him. As they step off the platform, Gander grins and lets out a low whistle. "Your Majesty, you''re really something. You managed to become one of the commander, in just a few days." Alix keeps walking, his expression calm. "Next time something like that happens," he says evenly, "you need to lay low. Get information first. Don''t draw attention until you know the place." Gander nods quickly, the grin slipping into something more serious. "Understood. I wasn''t expecting¡ªwell, any of that. I''ll be sharper next time." "Good." They move through the bustling plaza, slipping into the flow of people pouring in and out of the teleportation station. Alix keeps his pace steady, cutting through the crowd without effort. Gander walks beside him, slightly wide-eyed as they step beyond the station''s boundaries and into the heart of the city. They walk side by side through the wide streets of the city, the rhythmic pulse of ambient mana humming through the air like a living heartbeat. Gander keeps his eyes moving, absorbing everything around him. But as they approach the central tower, that awe wanes. The tower is tall, yes. Sleek. Magical. But compared to Alix''s capital, it will considered as normal building. Gander tilts his head, examining the structure as they near. "So this is their central tower, huh..." Alix casts him a sideways glance. "Disappointed?" Gander hesitates, then gives a respectful shrug. "Not exactly, Your Majesty. It''s solid. Well-crafted. But if this were standing in your capital, it wouldn''t even be one of the top hundred buildings." They reach the entrance. As before, the guards part without a word, and the heavy rune-locked doors slide open with a low resonance. Inside, the faint hum of power and the echo of footsteps create a sense of calm tension. As they step into the central tower''s grand interior, Gander glances around, taking in the towering columns and the raw scale of the hall. "...Alright," he says under his breath. "It''s more impressive inside." They walk deeper into the tower, the air thick with power and presence. At the far end of the great hall, the meeting chamber lies ahead¡ªits vaulted entrance flanked by twin statues of armored beasts, their eyes glowing faintly with mana. Inside, the space opens into a wide, circular council room. A large obsidian table dominates the center, ringed by elevated seats carved from darkstone and set with individual rune seals. Most of them glance toward Alix as he enters. But none say a word. Their eyes flicker with recognition¡ªnot of him specifically, but of the new face. They size him up in silence, their pride too thick to offer greeting, their station too high to speak first. To them, Alix is just another upstart, another tool perhaps... until proven otherwise. But one breaks the stillness. A large monster with silver fur along his arms, a spiked jawline, and a lazy grin pushes off the wall he''s leaning against. His armor is scorched and scratched, clearly worn from recent battle. He walks toward Alix with a cocky tilt to his stride and no regard for decorum. "So you''re the guy who put that Lathar bastard on his back, huh?" the man says, voice loud enough for the others to hear. "You thrashed him into the dirt, didn''t you?" Alix doesn''t even slow. He meets the man''s gaze, calm and unbothered. "Who are you?" The commander smirks. "Name''s Brakar. Commander of the Ashfang Line. We keep the southern spires from falling apart. More monsters than brains down there, so I''m used to cracking skulls." He folds his arms across his chest. "Lathar''s a smug pain in the ass. Always walks around like he''s two ranks above me. You taking him down? I respect that." Alix studies him. "I didn''t take him down. We fought. He lost." Brakar raises an eyebrow. "Same difference." A short silence follows, and a few of the other commanders glance over now with sharper interest. Brakar chuckles. "New blood. You talk straight. I like you already." He offers a nod¡ªnot quite friendly, but not hostile either. A gesture of informal acknowledgment. "I would to have a spar with you after this." Alix doesn''t respond immediately. He steps past Brakar and toward the obsidian table, only saying as he moves: "I don''t think I have a time for that, maybe next time." A few commanders murmur at that, some amused, others indifferent. Brakar just laughs under his breath, low and pleased. "He''s got teeth." Gander, standing a respectful pace behind Alix, keeps his head down. Time passes. The room gradually fills. More commanders arrive, taking their seats, murmuring in low tones, trading nods and glances. Every one of them holds weight¡ªfigures who command legions, who shape entire campaigns. The air is taut with expectation. Then, the temperature changes. A ripple of pressure rolls through the chamber, like gravity deepening for a heartbeat. Everyone feels it. Even the air feels heavier, as if holding its breath. The far wall of the chamber glows with molten veins as something massive approaches. And then¡ªhe arrives. A colossal figure steps into the room, the sound of his arrival more felt than heard. The commanders stand almost in unison, straightening with the kind of discipline that comes not from protocol¡ªbut awe. Respect. Fear. Veyrith. He doesn''t walk so much as descend, each step leaving faint scorch marks where his talons meet the stone. At least seven meters tall, his monstrous form casts a long shadow across the floor. His volcanic-black scales shimmer with dull crimson heat, and the magma-glow in the cracks of his body pulses in time with his breath. He sits upon a throne that grows from the very floor¡ªliving crystal and fossilized bone coiling upward to meet his massive frame. His burning mane flows behind him like a banner in a silent wind, and when his eyes move¡ª ¡ªthey fix instantly on Alix. Molten gold. Sharp. Assessing. Quietly dangerous. Every commander bows or nods in deference. Even Brakar lowers his head slightly. Alix doesn''t move. He simply sits, calm and unreadable, one hand resting on the obsidian table. Gander remains standing at his side, tense, gaze flicking between Veyrith and the rest of the room. This one... feels like that monster, Gander thinks. Veyrith''s voice rolls out, deep and slow, layered like stone grinding against stone. Yet there''s a strange clarity in it¡ªmeasured, not monstrous. "You must be wondering why I called you all here." The room is silent. No one interrupts. Even the usual loudmouths stay still. Veyrith''s gaze sweeps over them once before continuing. "We are not planning to go to an all out war." A few eyebrows rise. Whispers start but die quickly. "No... not yet," he adds. Veyrith lets the silence hang, his words sinking in like weight dropped into still water. "This time," he continues, "someone from another continent has made an offer. One that neither I nor Astram can ignore." A stir goes through the chamber. Not loud, but noticeable¡ªshifts in posture, shared glances, quiet exhalations. Even Brakar''s grin fades a bit. Brakar leans forward, his forearms resting on the table, voice steady. "What continent, my lord? As far as I remember, the only one close enough¡ªand desperate enough to ask for help¡ªis the one with those three kingdoms." Alix''s eyes narrow slightly, but he says nothing. He leans back in his chair, expression unreadable. Three kingdoms? he thinks. There''s no way they''re talking about... Veyrith nods once, slow and deliberate. "Yes. The very same. The continent that holds a sealed relic... of a powerful figure long forgotten by most, but not by us." A flicker of tension zips through the room. One of the older commanders, a mage draped in heavy robes adorned with arcane sigils, speaks next. His voice is quiet, but it carries. "I''ve heard whispers about that. After the relic was discovered¡ªor rather, after news of it got out¡ªneighboring continents began probing their borders. Skirmishes. Demands. Threats." He exhales slowly. "In the end, the kingdom that held the relic made a choice. They destroyed every portal that connected them to the outer world. Severed all contact. Cut off even trade." Chapter 175 177: Going Back To The Three Kingdoms Continent (part 1) Someone clicks their tongue. Another scoffs. Brakar lets out a low grunt. "Cowards," he mutters. "They were protecting something," the mage commander counters. "Or hiding it. Either way, the pressure from the outside didn''t stop. It just shifted form." Alix''s fingers tap once against the table. If this is what I think it is... then things are going to get complicated. Veyrith shifts slightly in his throne. The motion alone sends a small tremor through the floor. Another commander leans forward, his voice tinged with disbelief. "What kind of enemies are they facing, that they''d crawl back and ask us¡ªand Astram¡ªfor help?" Veyrith''s burning gaze shifts toward him. "According to the king who contacted us, two of the three kingdoms have already fallen. Entire cities leveled. Armies vanished. The enemies they face are not invaders seeking land or gold." He pauses, his voice turning low and grim. "They''re monsters. The kind that shouldn''t be able to coordinate... but do. And if they''re telling the truth, then the kingdom left standing won''t last another season." Then another commander scoffs, sharp and skeptical. "So? Sounds like an easy task. Send a few legions. Clean it up." Veyrith''s molten eyes harden. "They are not just asking for cleanup." He leans forward, the magma-cracks along his shoulders pulsing brighter. "The king didn''t just want reinforcements. He asked for a joint operation¡ªone led equally by us and Astram''s forces. He wants us to secure the continent. He wants to make sure that whatever''s there doesn''t reach anyone else." The room stirs. This time, it''s not surprise or curiosity that spreads. It''s disgust. Alix watches as several commanders shift uncomfortably. Faces tighten. Expressions darken. One commander, a scarred beastkin with rust-colored scales, growls under his breath. "He wants us to fight beside Astram?" Another slams a fist softly against the table. "The only reason most of us joined Ember Claw was because of Astram. To crush them. To burn their cities. Not hold their damn flank." Mutters ripple through the room. Words like betrayal, insult, and cowardice weave through the murmurs. Brakar doesn''t say anything at first. But then he leans back in his seat, exhaling through his nose like someone holding back a snarl. "Working with them like allies... That''s a hard one, my lord. You know what they did to our lines, to our people." "I do," Veyrith says calmly, but the temperature in the room rises a degree. Veyrith lets the silence drag, letting their anger simmer without boiling over. Then, his voice cuts through the tension like a molten blade. "I''m not asking you to cooperate fully." The murmuring dies almost instantly. Eyes snap to him. Brakar''s brow furrows, and the other commanders lean in slightly, suspicious, curious. Veyrith''s eyes narrow, glowing like twin furnaces. "What happens inside the Relic... will remain inside." A beat. "You want vengeance? You want blood for what your enemies did?" His voice lowers, but somehow feels louder. "Then take it. Inside the Relic, you''ll be cut off from outside." Another pause. "We can use this opportunity to kill the monster under Astram''s banner. Quietly. Efficiently." He leans forward, clawed fingers resting on the edge of his stone throne. "No one will question what happens inside. No one outside will know." Brakar straightens, his grin slowly returning. "Now that," he says, voice low and amused, "sounds more like the Veyrith I signed up to follow." A few commanders exchange glances¡ªmeasured, considering. One nods, slowly. Another bares their teeth in a faint smile. Veyrith doesn''t smile¡ªbut the slow rumble that rolls from his chest sounds like satisfaction. The room settles again, this time not in opposition, but readiness. Then he raises one clawed hand, stopping the building murmurs before they rise too far. "There is one more condition." The room stills again. "Only those at Tier 5 and below can enter the Relic." A ripple of surprise breaks through the chamber. Veyrith goes on, unbothered. "I''ll remain stationed outside. Along with General Medoran and General Svira. Astram''s side will also keep their highest, with his two guardians." He leans back into the throne, the magma veins across his body dimming slightly. "If they try anything... they''ll answer to us." Brakar chuckles under his breath. "I almost hope they do." Another commander, a lanky horned woman with ink-black armor, nods. "So the stage inside is ours." Veyrith''s gaze sweeps the table, steady and final. "A week from now, we move. The portal will be opened then. Prepare your units, and sharpen your blades." He lets the final words settle like stone. "Dismissed." One by one, chairs scrape against the darkstone. Commanders rise, some eager, some contemplative. But most wear the same look: restrained anticipation. They finally have a chance. To kill without blame. To strike down the ones they hate the most¡ªwithout dragging their people into full-scale war. Brakar walks past Alix on his way out, pausing just long enough to murmur, "Try not to die in there, new blood. I want my spar after." Alix doesn''t respond. Just meets his gaze. Brakar smirks and strides off, his laughter fading into the corridor beyond. The night air outside the Ember Claw citadel is sharp with heat and smoke, even this far from the central forges. The blackstone streets hiss beneath Alix''s boots as he walks, the crimson glow of the lava channels painting his cloak in flickering shades of blood. Beside him, Gander walks in silence for a while¡ªthen finally speaks, voice low but tight. "Your Majesty... this is bad. They''re going to help the Valgros Kingdom." Alix nods once, as if he''s been expecting it. "I know." They pass under a basalt archway, guards in obsidian armor giving slight bows as they move through. "That''s why we need to return," Alix continues. "Back to the Three Kingdoms continent. We have a week to prepare." Gander glances at him, concerned. "And after that? You''ll come back here, your majesty?" Alix doesn''t hesitate. "Yes. I have to be present when they enter the Relic." They reach the teleportation station¡ªmassive, circular, and etched with glowing runes humming with restrained energy. Flames dance along the rim of the gate, waiting to be fed coordinates. "But you won''t be alone during the preparations," Alix adds. Gander raises an eyebrow. "Oh?" "I''ll be reviving one of my Tier 6 subordinates." Gander slows his steps. His brow furrows, then smooths as a thought takes shape. After a moment, he speaks. "...Your Majesty, may I suggest who to revive?" Alix turns to look at him fully. The runes behind them crackle with restrained heat, the teleportation circle pulsing steadily beneath their feet. "Oh?" Alix asks, curious. "You have someone in mind?" Gander nods once, deliberate. "Yes. Someone who was very close to me. And someone I worked well with¡ªbetter than anyone else, truthfully." Alix studies him for a beat, then folds his arms. "Alright. Who is it?" ----- The teleportation circle flares to life. Heat surges around them, and a flash of white-gold light swallows them both. A heartbeat later, the two of them reappear in the base¡ªsilent, cool. The sharp scent of pine and the distant rush of water replace the choking heat of Ember Claw. A pair of guards stationed near the arrival platform stiffen, then salute as they recognize them. They walk through the outer courtyard, moonlight glinting faintly off the darkstone walls of the base. Somewhere above, the distant flutter of night patrol wings echoes faintly against the cliffs. Lathar is in the same spot where Alix last saw him¡ªstill behind his desk, now scribbling a few curt instructions onto a scroll. The moment he hears footsteps, his head lifts sharply. Alix strides in, cloak swaying, Gander a few steps behind. He stops just before the desk, arms at his sides, expression composed. Lathar squints. "Back already?" Alix offers a tight smile. "Not for long." Lathar leans back, arching an eyebrow. "Don''t tell me that was it. Just a meeting and done?" Alix snorts faintly. He folds his arms. "They''ve found a relic. A sealed one. On another continent." Lathar blinks once, then narrows his eyes. "...Relic? You serious?" Alix then explained everything. Lathar''s mouth opens, but no words come out at first. He stands slowly, pushing the chair back with a sharp scrape. "A relic hunt? That explains the full summon..." he mutters, rubbing his jaw. Alix nods, his tone measured. "And they''re mobilizing to go in a week. Only Tier 5s and below are allowed entry. Veyrith and the other top generals are staying outside." Lathar exhales slowly, then motions toward a side chair. "You should rest, at least for a day. We can start preparing the units, screen who we''ll bring¡ª" "I won''t be here," Alix says suddenly, cutting him off. Lathar blinks. "What?" Alix gives a half-shrug, like it''s nothing. "I''m heading out to train. There''s... a technique I need to refine before we go in. I''ll be gone for about a week." "A week?" Lathar''s eyes narrow again, this time sharper. "We still have a lot to do. Are you going to toss that onto me again?" "It''s necessary," Alix says simply, already turning toward the door. "Hold on," Lathar steps from behind the desk, voice rising. "You can''t just drop that and vanish¡ª" But Alix lifts a hand behind him, already moving down the hall. "Handle things while I''m gone. You''re good at that." "Alix¡ª!" And then he''s gone¡ªvanishing down the corridor, Gander trailing behind, both cloaked in the fading echo of his words. Lathar stands there for a long moment, staring at the empty hallway, jaw clenched. Then he exhales, mutters something under his breath, and turns back to his desk. Chapter 176 178: Going Back To The Three Kingdoms Continent (part 2) High above the pines, the wind whips past in steady currents, tugging at cloaks and hair. Alix soars through the air with practiced ease, the mana beneath his feet shimmering faintly, his figure a streak of movement against the night sky. Gander flies beside him. For a while, neither of them speaks. Then, Alix glances to the side and says, "Let''s swing by somewhere first." Gander adjusts his altitude slightly to match. "A detour?" "Yeah," Alix replies, voice calm. "I need to pick someone up before we head back to the capital." Gander doesn''t hesitate. "Understood." They tilt slightly, banking toward a distant forested region now glowing faintly under the moonlight. The stretch of trees thickens below, dark and layered, broken only by the occasional glint of torchlight from a hidden village or roaming patrol. Alix''s eyes scan the horizon, narrowing with familiarity. "It won''t take long. She''s not far from here." Gander blinks, briefly puzzled. "She?" Alix doesn''t elaborate, just continues flying. "You''ll see." Gander doesn''t press further. Minutes pass, the air thinning as they shift altitude, then descending in a sharp, clean dive toward a clearing veiled by trees and mist. A faint trail winds toward a small collection of quiet huts built into the forest''s edge, nestled near a low ridge. It''s peaceful¡ªtoo peaceful for most to find on their own. They land softly near the edge, mana dispersing in quiet pulses beneath their boots. The scent of damp wood and wildflowers greets them. Alix starts walking immediately, familiar with the path. Gander looks around but keeps pace. The brush shifts up ahead¡ªthen a small, familiar figure appears at the edge of the path. Ruva. She''s holding a small woven basket and blinking up at them, eyes wide with surprise. Her ears twitch, then perk fully when she sees who it is. "Big Brother?" Alix''s face softens. "Hey, Ruva." She drops the basket and runs straight into him. He kneels as she flings her arms around him again, clinging like she never let go the first time. "You came back," she mumbles into his coat. "You said you would." "I keep my promises," Alix murmurs, ruffling her hair gently. Ruva pulls back, wiping her eyes before grinning up at him. "Are you here to take me with you?" Alix nods. "Yeah. It''s time." She hugs him again¡ªquicker this time¡ªand then scurries to grab her small bag near the hut entrance. Gander watches the exchange quietly, a flicker of realization crossing his face¡ªbut he still doesn''t ask. Alix rises and glances toward him. "Her name is Ruva." Gander inclines his head respectfully. "Understood. Hello little princess." Ruva stops mid-step, her ears twitching at the word. She glances up shyly, clutching her bag to her chest. "Uhm... I''m not a princess..." Gander lowers himself slightly to her level¡ªthough the gesture is polite, his scary form and voice still can make anyone have a cold back. He tries to speak softly, but his gravel-edged tone makes even calm words sound like a growl from deep within a cavern. "If you want to become His Majesty''s little sister," he says, tilting his head, "then you are a princess. That is how it works." Ruva''s tail flicks behind her nervously. Her cheeks flush, caught between confusion and flustered. She peeks at Alix uncertainly, as if to confirm whether Gander is being serious. Alix pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, though there''s a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I''ll explain it to you later." He places a hand gently on her back, guiding her toward the path. "But first," he adds, looking toward the village, "I need to speak with the elder." Ruva nods, quiet again. They walk together through the village, back toward the elder''s home. As they pass, some of the Lamari had welcomed them, give respectful nods or warm glances toward them, moved by hid return. Inside the elder''s dwelling, the air smells faintly of dried herbs and carved wood. The old Lamari elder sits near a low fire, leaning slightly on his staff as they enter. He looks up slowly, his weathered features calm. "You''ve decided," he says without preamble. Alix nods. "I''m taking her with me." The elder doesn''t react with surprise. He studies Ruva, then Alix, then finally speaks. "She has spirit. She''ll carry her tribe''s memory with her." "She''ll have more than memory," Alix says firmly. "She''ll have protection, and a place to belong." The elder inclines his head slowly. "Then go with the blessings of this grove. And thank you, Alix, for keeping your word. Many don''t." Alix dips his head in return. "And thank you for protecting her. I''ll return if the need arises." A silence falls between them. One not of awkwardness, but of quiet understanding. Then Alix turns, and Ruva steps closer to his side. Alix glances at her, then up at the night sky. The wind picks up again, rustling the trees. He knows she can''t fly¡ªnot yet¡ªand carrying her mid-flight across leagues of forest isn''t an option. So he lifts one hand and opens his inventory with a thought. A soft shimmer of light flickers in his palm. A small, metallic object drops into his hand¡ªno bigger than a brooch, shaped like a miniature carriage with strange, arcane etchings across its surface. Ruva tilts her head, curious. "What''s that?" "You''ll see," Alix says with a small smile. He flicks the item into the air. The moment it leaves his fingers, it begins to glow. Magical sigils bloom across its surface in elegant loops. The item hovers for a heartbeat¡ªthen, with a low hum and a pulse of light, it expands in a flash, growing larger and larger until a full-sized carriage now floats before them. It''s sleek and elegant, shaped like a crescent moon, with silver trim and deep navy panels. Instead of wheels, it hovers slightly above the ground, suspended by silent arcs of magic beneath it. There''s no beast pulling it¡ªno need. Magic hums along its frame, and runes glimmer faintly at the joints. The doors open smoothly with a hiss of compressed mana. Ruva gasps and stumbles back a step, eyes wide. "Waaah...! It got big!" She circles around it once, ears twitching, tail swishing back and forth in excitement. "It''s floating! It''s really floating!" Alix opens the door for her. "Come on. Inside." She steps up carefully, peeking in¡ªand her mouth drops open again. "It''s... it''s bigger inside?!" The interior looks nothing like what the compact exterior suggests. Cushioned seats, polished wood floors, and a softly glowing crystal chandelier overhead give it the look of a small, cozy room. There''s even a tea set on a low table and a pile of soft blankets tucked into the corner. "It''s like a tiny house!" Ruva says, spinning around as she steps in fully. "It''s so warm, too..." She turns and beams at Alix. "This is so cool!" Alix chuckles and climbs in after her. "Glad you like it." Gander steps in last, ducking slightly to fit. The door closes behind them with a gentle thrum, and the carriage hums to life, rising silently into the air. Outside, the forest slips away beneath them. Ruva presses her face against the window, marveling at the stars and trees as they drift into the sky. Alix watches her for a while, her small figure silhouetted against the glass, nose pressed close, eyes sparkling. Then he exhales slowly and leans back into the cushioned seat across from her. "Ruva," he says softly. She turns halfway, ears flicking. "Mm?" "There''s something I should tell you," he begins, his voice calm but serious. "About who I really am." Ruva blinks, her tail curling around her ankles. "You''re... Alix," she says slowly, confused. "My big brother." Alix smiles faintly at that. "Yes. But... there''s more." He waits until she sits down fully, facing him now, small hands folded in her lap. "I''m a king," he says. "A real one. With a throne, a capital city, and a kingdom." Ruva''s mouth parts slightly. "...Huh?" He nods. "The people I protect... the ones I lead... they''re like us. Monsters. Beastkin. Creatures the world has pushed aside." "You''re... a monster king?" she asks slowly, tilting her head. "In a way," Alix says, smiling again. "But I don''t rule over monsters¡ªI rule over people. People who were cast out, hunted, or feared... just because of what they are. I gave them a place where they could live without hiding." Ruva stares at him, stunned into silence. She shifts, looking from his calm face to Gander, who is seated quietly in the corner, watching without interrupting. "You''re... not joking?" she whispers. "No." After a moment, she shifts from her seat and crawls into his lap, curling against his chest like a kitten. "...Okay," she whispers. "But you''re still Big Brother. Even if you''re a king." Alix wraps his arms around her, holding her close. "I wouldn''t want to be anything else." Gander sits quietly across from them, one arm resting on the windowsill, the other across his lap. His green eyes follow the faint stars streaking past outside, but they aren''t truly watching the sky. Ruva''s small frame rests peacefully against Alix''s chest, her breathing even as the hum of the carriage fills the space. Alix remains quiet, one arm around her, the other resting lightly on the armrest. His expression is softer than Gander has ever seen it¡ªgentle, unguarded. He remembers the cold, ruthless version of his king¡ªthe one who raised cities, struck fear into armies, and never once hesitated. That version never showed weakness, never paused to care, never smiled unless it served a purpose. But this... this is different. His majesty speaks to her with patience. He holds her like she matters. And above all, he lets himself be seen. Chapter 177 179: Adopting Ruva The portal flares once more, a ripple of light bursting outward before collapsing in on itself like a dying breath. And just like that, the carriage is gone. No grand procession. No royal guard. Just Alix, Gander, and Ruva stepping through the veil of magic¡ªemerging into silence. The air is damp. Cold stone surrounds them. They''re back in the hidden treasury chamber beneath the Ordeya Kingdom. The light here is dim, fed only by faintly glowing veins of mana running along the walls¡ªancient circuits from a time even the oldest tomes forgot. Dust clings to the air like a warning. The space smells of rusted metal, oil, and stone that''s never seen sun. Ruva clutches Alix''s cloak tightly, glancing around. "It''s so dark in here." Alix then uses a short-range teleportation item. They emerge at the outskirts of the Ordeya Kingdom, concealed in the deep forest shadow. Moonlight filters between the tall, ancient trees, and the cool night air brushes past them. Ruva blinks up at the open sky. "We''re... outside?" Alix scanning the area. "Yeah, and now we head home." He raises his hand, summoning the carriage once more. With a glint of mana, the miniature form appears in his palm and expands into its full, crescent-shaped majesty. The door opens with a soft hiss. They climb aboard. Hours pass in peaceful flight. The carriage hums quietly as it floats high above the forests and hills. Ruva sits glued to the wide, curved window, her face practically pressed against the glass. Then she sees it. "...Whoa." Far in the distance, glowing softly in the pre-dawn darkness, the capital city appears¡ªhis capital. Floating islands rise like silent sentinels above the city, each one dotted with towers, bridges, and faintly glowing crystals. Thin waterfalls cascade from their edges, vanishing into shimmering mist before touching the ground. Lights twinkle across the cityscape like scattered stars, and the city itself stretches so far, Ruva can''t see where it ends. "It''s so big..." she whispers. "I... I can''t even tell where it stops. It''s like... like the whole world''s down there." Alix leans beside her. "It''s called Noctaris City. My pride, the capital city of my kingdom." She looks up at him slowly. "It looks like the land of the gods." Alix gives a quiet laugh. "That''s good that you like it." Ruva''s eyes stay wide, her hands flat on the glass. "There''s... people like me there? Beastkin? Monsters?" He nods. "All kinds. You won''t have to hide anymore." Her voice is small. "It''s beautiful..." Gander, arms folded near the door, finally speaks. "You should see it when the sun rises. The crystal towers glow like fire." "I want to see everything," Ruva says immediately, tail flicking behind her. "All of it. Every street, every bridge, even the weird floating rocks!" "You will," Alix says. "This place is yours now, too." She turns, eyes sparkling. "Really?" "Really." The carriage begins its slow descent, passing through drifting layers of cloud as the city comes into clearer view. Bridges curve between towers like silver threads, gardens bloom even in the air, and far below, citizens begin to stir¡ªbeastkin, goblins, golems, and more, all living without fear. Ruva doesn''t say a word. Her world is changing with every heartbeat. And for once, she doesn''t feel afraid. She feels... home. "Big Brother," she says quietly, not looking away from the window. "Yeah?" "...Thank you." Alix smiles, his hand resting gently on her head. The carriage glides toward the palace''s highest landing platform. The sky is beginning to brighten with the first blush of dawn, painting the towers in pale gold and rose. Cool morning wind brushes against the carriage as it slows, coming to a gentle halt. The doors hiss open. Waiting at the landing, standing straight-backed and poised with her hands clasped in front of her, is Draya. Her long silver hair is pulled into a high braid, and her tall bunny-like ears twitch ever so slightly as the door opens. Her deep crimson uniform is crisp, her demeanor unreadably calm. But her eyes brighten when she sees him. "Your Majesty," Draya says, bowing with practiced grace. "Welcome back." Alix steps down first, his cloak rustling lightly in the morning air. Gander follows, quiet and watchful. Then comes Ruva¡ªeyes wide, ears perked, tail swaying nervously behind her as she peeks out from behind Alix. Draya''s gaze briefly flicks to Ruva, assessing with quiet curiosity. Alix gestures for the girl to step forward. "Draya," he says, voice steady, "this is Ruva." The bunny maid nods once, polite but formal. "A guest, Your Majesty?" Alix places a hand gently on Ruva''s shoulder. "No. From today onward... she''s family. I''m adopting her as my little sister." There''s a pause. Ruva shifts, fidgeting a little under the sudden weight of attention. Her ears lower slightly. Then, to her surprise, Draya bows again¡ªlower this time. "I see," Draya says, her voice softening just enough to be noticed. "Then... welcome to the palace, Lady Ruva." Ruva blinks. "L-Lady...?" Draya straightens with a small smile¡ªrare, but genuine. "As His Majesty''s sister, you are now of royal standing. It is an honor to meet you." Ruva''s tail fluffs up in panic. "W-wait¡ªme?! Royal?! I-I don''t know how to be¡ªwhat do I do?!" Alix chuckles and ruffles her hair gently. "You don''t need to do anything." Draya watches the exchange in silence for a moment, then steps forward and kneels in front of Ruva. Her crimson eyes meet the girl''s softly. "If you ever need anything," she says, her tone suddenly warmer, "you may ask me directly. I will see to it that you are taken care of¡ªproper meals, clothing, rooms, lessons... anything." Ruva''s mouth opens slightly, then slowly closes. She nods, cheeks flushed. "...Okay." Draya rises smoothly, her expression once again composed. "Shall I prepare her chambers, Your Majesty?" "Yes," Alix replies. "Make sure it''s near mine." "Of course." "And send word to all my subordinates," he adds. "Let them know I''ve returned. I''ll meet with them tomorrow." Draya bows once more. "It will be done." Draya gently places a hand on Ruva''s back and gives her a reassuring nod. "Come, Lady Ruva. Let''s get you cleaned up and into something more fitting. I''ll show you to your room." Ruva hesitates, glancing at Alix, but he gives her an encouraging smile. "Go on." She nods quickly and follows Draya, still glancing around in wide-eyed awe as they disappear through the towering archways of the palace, her small footsteps echoing lightly on the marble floor. As the sound fades, silence returns to the landing platform. Gander steps forward, folding his arms, his expression unreadable. For a long moment, he says nothing. Then¡ª "Your Majesty," he says quietly, "forgive me for questioning you... but may I ask something?" Alix turns to him. "Go ahead." Gander''s gaze remains steady. "Why are you so... fond of that child? In the past, you''ve never shown these kinds of emotions. Not toward anyone." Alix pauses. A breeze brushes past them, tugging at his cloak. He looks out toward the floating city, the horizon now touched with the fire-orange edge of dawn. For a long moment, he doesn''t answer. His voice finally breaks the silence¡ªlow and distant. "I don''t know either." He closes his eyes briefly. And memories come¡ªnot of this life, but the one before. Of cold, empty nights. Of a cramped room. Of walking alone in rain-soaked streets after aging out, drifting from job to job, no friends, no family. No one waiting for him. Just silence. Just the glow of a monitor in the dark. "...I just..." Alix begins again, slower this time, "when I found her... something in me told me I had to protect her. Like it wasn''t even a choice. Just... instinct." Gander watches him quietly, the faint clink of his gauntlet shifting as he adjusts his stance. "And," Alix adds, glancing away with a faint, almost awkward smirk, "she''s cute." The corner of Gander''s mouth twitches. Not quite a smile, but something close. Alix exhales through his nose, eyes drifting skyward again¡ªtoward the light bleeding into the clouds, toward the floating islands bathed in pale gold. "She reminds me," Alix murmurs, "that this world is real." Gander blinks. "Real?" Alix catches himself. He doesn''t elaborate. He doesn''t need to. He glances toward the corridor where Ruva disappeared with Draya. His voice is quieter now, thoughtful. "There was a time," he says slowly, "when I didn''t care about anything. Didn''t even feel much. Everything seemed... distant. Like I was just watching things happen instead of living through them." His gaze narrows slightly, as if searching for something far beyond the horizon. "But now, when I look at her, I feel it. That urgency. That need to act. To keep her safe." He pauses. "And that''s enough of a reason for me." Gander lowers his head slightly, accepting the answer. "I understand." The next day, the morning sun climbs higher, bathing the upper spires of Noctaris City in cascading gold. Alix waits at the center platform, hands behind his back, his expression calm but unreadable. Three figures step through. Gorath arrives first¡ªtowering and broad-shouldered, his heavy armor etched with battle scars. The giant grins the moment he sees a familiar face. Behind him, Varkas and Vaelith follow¡ªboth dressed in streamlined combat gear, weapons at their sides, eyes sharp. Varkas pauses when he spots Gander. Vaelith also stiffens slightly. The two exchange a glance¡ªthen offer short bows. "Sir Gander," Varkas says with a nod of respect. "Didn''t expect to see you again so soon." Gander offers a polite nod. "It''s good to see you both again." Then comes Gorath¡ªlaughing. A deep, thunderous sound that echoes through the open space. He stomps forward, grinning from ear to ear. Chapter 178 - 180: Lysaria, New Subordinate "Gander!" he bellows. "I didn''t know His Majesty already revived you! You bastard, I missed you?" Gander allows himself the faintest smile. "And you''re still loud as ever." The two clasp forearms, the impact of it echoing like a hammer strike. "It''s good to see you, old friend," Gorath says with genuine warmth. Varkas crosses his arms, and said. "We heard His Majesty was away for a few days." Gorath scratches his beard, frowning slightly. "Where did the two of you even go? It''s not like you to vanish without warning." Gander steps aside and gestures toward the inner palace. "His majesty will explain everything," he says simply. The group moves with measured steps through the ornate corridor, columns of dark stone lined with soft-glowing crystal sconces. At the end, tall doors part silently as they approach, revealing a circular chamber of glass and obsidian. A wide, round table sits at the center, polished to a mirror sheen. Only one person stands within. Alix. He''s alone, hands clasped behind his back, standing beneath the pale-blue glow of the room''s central skylight. His expression is unreadable, but his presence commands silence the moment they step in. The four immediately straighten. "Your Majesty," Gorath says first, bowing with his hand over his chest. "Your Majesty," Varkas and Vaelith echo in unison. Alix nods once. "Sit." They move to take their seats, Gorath lowering himself with surprising grace for a man his size, Vaelith and Varkas remaining alert despite the relaxed posture. Alix doesn''t sit. "I''m going to explain everything," he begins, voice calm and steady. "From the beginning. No omissions." The four exchange brief glances, silent. Alix steps closer to the table. "During our time away, Gander and I found a portal. Specifically... in their royal treasury." "A vault beneath the capital of Ordeya," Alix confirms. "We found it sealed off. Hidden behind magic." The room stays silent¡ªno one dares interrupt. He paces slowly along the edge of the table, his tone calm, yet each word feels weighted. "The moment we stepped through that portal... we were no longer in Ordeya." Varkas frowns slightly but doesn''t speak. Vaelith leans forward just a little, her eyes narrowed in focus. Alix continues. "It led us to another continent entirely." Gorath speaks up, his voice quiet for once. "Another continent?" Alix nods. "This world... it''s much larger than we thought. The maps we know only cover one portion¡ªthis continent. There are more. Maybe many more." Alix pauses, letting the weight of that truth settle. "We did a lot of things while we were there," he continues, voice steady. "Gathered information. Met people. But our concerns right now are more immediate." He steps closer to the table, eyes locked on Gorath. "Two forces from that continent are coming here. Both with Tier 6s." That gets everyone''s full attention. Gorath straightens slightly, his expression sharpening. "Tier 6s?" he echoes. Alix nods once. "The king of the Valgros Kingdom is preparing to open portals on our continent." Gorath leans forward, hands clenched. "My lord, how many Tier 6s do you think will arrive?" "Right now," Alix says, "each side has at least two confirmed Tier 6s, not including their rulers¡ªwho''s a lot stronger." Vaelith exhales slowly, her brows furrowed. "So we''re looking at four Tier 6s?" "Possibly," Alix replies. "But in the beginning, I believe each faction will send one." Varkas narrows his eyes. "You''re majesty, you said they''re enemies. They won''t work together, right?" "No," Alix says firmly. "They''ve been at war for generations. From what I saw, they despise each other more than they fear anything else. Whatever they''re doing here, it''s separate. Their goals don''t align." "That''s good," Gorath mutters. "We won''t be dealing with an alliance then." After some time discussing strategies and contingencies, Alix straightens and casts a glance around the room. "That will be all for now," he says. "Gorath, Varkas, Vaelith¡ªyou''re dismissed." The three rise at once. "As you command, Your Majesty," Gorath says with a hand over his chest, the others following suit. Without another word, the three stride from the chamber, leaving only Gander behind. The doors close silently. Alix turns to him. "We will now revive one of my Tier 6 subordinates," he says calmly. "As promised... the one you suggested." Gander bows his head. "Thank you, Your Majesty. You honor me." "You''ve never steered me wrong," Alix replies. "Come." He turns, and the two walk side by side through a quiet corridor lit with dim, flickering runes carved into the obsidian walls. Their steps echo lightly against the polished blackstone floor. As they descend deeper into the palace, the air grows cooler¡ªolder. They pass through heavy arcane doors, each marked with ancient glyphs that shimmer faintly at Alix''s presence. Finally, they arrive. The revival chamber. A vast, circular space carved directly into the earth beneath the palace. In its center stands a raised platform etched with radiant sigils, each one pulsing slowly with life. Crystals float in the air around it, humming softly in resonance. The low thrum of magic fills the chamber, growing louder as Alix steps forward. The floating crystals orbit the platform faster now, their glow intensifying in response to his presence. Gander remains silent, his eyes fixed on the stone coffin at the center of the platform. Alix raises a hand. Gold coins surges from his palm, weaving through the air like golden fire. The sigils along the crystal, light crawling across the carvings in a spiral pattern. The entire room pulses once¡ªthen goes still. A silence deeper than death fills the chamber. Then¡ªmovement. First, there is mist¡ªthick, violet-black, bleeding upward like ink in water. It coils, stretches, and begins to take form. A woman''s figure, tall and willowy, emerges within it. Her legs are long and clawed, bare to the knee with tendrils of translucent flesh spiraling upward like armored lace. Her skin is dark lavender, smooth and slick like polished obsidian, covered in glowing curse-inscribed tattoos that shift like living script. Her arms are wrapped in strips of shadow that flicker with every breath she takes. Her fingers end in long talons, but they move with dancer''s grace. Her face is hauntingly beautiful¡ªinhumanly so. Smooth, angular, with high cheekbones, dark violet lips, and no pupils¡ªonly glowing slits of eerie green that stare out from pools of liquid black. The woman slowly lifts her head. Her gaze drifts across the chamber before settling on Alix. Then she kneels. Both knees to the ground. One clawed hand pressed to her chest. Head bowed. "...My king," she whispers, voice like silk over broken glass. "You called me back from the dark. I offer myself to your will once more." Alix steps forward, eyes calm and steady. "Welcome back, Lysaria." She raises her head slowly, reverence in every movement. "I am yours. My body. My curse. My soul. All of it exists only by your command." Gander steps forward, stopping a few feet beside her. His tone is quieter now, softer than before. "Still as dramatic as ever." Lysaria turns her head toward him, a slow smile curling her lips. "You missed me, curse-blood." "You took the good plagues with you," he replies, chuckling faintly. She laughs¡ªlow, haunting, beautiful. Alix speaks, and the room stills again. "Lysaria was one of my personal weapons during my first fight with another player''s kingdom, along with Gander." {Status Window Appears [Name]: Lysaria [Race]: Abyss-Weaver [Class]: Plague Mage [Levels]: 635 (Tier 6) Alix gazes at her for a moment longer, his tone calm yet carrying absolute finality. "Gander will fill you in on everything." Lysaria bows her head once more. "Thank you, my king... I will not fail you again." Alix meets her gaze briefly, then lifts his hand. In a ripple of mana, his form vanishes¡ªno flare, no sound, just absence. The silence stretches for a breath, then another. Lysaria rises slowly, movements sinuous and controlled. Her glowing eyes flicker toward Gander, half-lidded with familiarity and curiosity. "...So," she murmurs, her voice laced with smoke and secrets. "Tell me everything, curse-blood. What did I miss while I was away?" ---- In a quiet pulse of light, Alix reappears just outside Ruva''s new chambers. The palace hallway is dim and still, the early morning sunlight barely reaching this far. Warm sconces flicker with gentle blue fire along the walls, casting soft shadows against the polished obsidian floor. A pair of Royal guards stationed nearby bow quickly upon noticing him, then return to silence. Alix steps forward, boots soundless on the smooth stone. He pauses at the door. For a moment, he simply listens. Faint shuffling. A surprised yelp. Draya''s voice¡ªlow and patient. "...That sleeve goes on your left, Lady Ruva." Ruva''s muffled reply comes a second later. "I¡ªI know! I just... I''m not used to this many buttons..." Alix knocks once, knuckles light on the door. A brief silence. Then¡ª "Big Brother?" Ruva''s voice perks up. The door opens a moment later, and Draya steps aside gracefully, inclining her head. "She insisted on dressing herself," she says mildly. "It is... a work in progress." Alix arches a brow as he looks inside. Ruva stands near a tall mirror, halfway into a royal tunic of deep violet silk. The sleeves are uneven, the collar''s crooked, and one of the belts meant for her waist is tangled around her leg somehow. She grins awkwardly. "I''m trying." Alix steps in, arms crossed. "You look like you wrestled the outfit and lost." "It attacked me," she says seriously. He snorts. "Come here." Ruva steps closer, and he crouches down slightly, adjusting the belt first, then fixing the collar and tugging the sleeves into place with surprising gentleness. Draya watches from the side, expression unreadable. Chapter 179 - 181: The Arrival Of Medoran and Gresvin A day later, in Valgros Kingdom teleportation Portal. A rumble of energy crackles through the air as the portal surges with power. Rings of magic churn in layered rotation, glowing runes flaring brighter with each second. Then, with a sharp whump, two silhouettes emerge from the other side of the dimensional gate¡ªtall, imposing figures who radiate a pressure that makes the surrounding guards tense instinctively. The first to step forward is clad in jagged crimson armor laced with ember veins that pulse like molten lava. His presence is suffocating, heat radiating from his body in waves that warp the air around him. A thick mane of blackened red hair tumbles down his back, his face half-covered by a brutal helm shaped like a snarling beast. His eyes burn¡ªliterally¡ªwith flickering flames. Medoran, General of the Ember Claw Group. He stops, placing a heavy boot onto the portal''s stone floor with a dull thud that feels like the earth itself flinched. A single exhale sends wisps of steam curling from the vents of his armor. Behind him, an eerily silent figure walks into the light. The second is less flashy¡ªno glowing armor, no bluster¡ªbut equally terrifying. A tall man draped in a long, flowing coat of pitch-black leather, unadorned but impossibly clean. His skin is pale as snow, his hair silver and slicked back. His eyes are mismatched¡ªone a cold blue, the other pitch black and swirling like a void. Around him, space bends slightly, as if rejecting his very presence. His hands are clasped behind his back, his expression calm, almost bored. Gresvin. Astram''s representative. As they come to a stop side by side, the magic around the portal dies down, and the oppressive silence that follows is broken only by a faint creak¡ªone of the nearby knights shifting nervously under the pressure of their aura. Prince Asdri stiffens as he watches from the side, jaw clenched. He quickly glances at his father seated beside him, eyes searching. He keeps his face neutral. Trained. But inside, a storm brews. These weren''t allies¡ªthey were walking calamities. Monsters, each of them, and no one knew what they might do. Any one of them alone could erase a city. Calling on their help was... Desperate. His father, the king, meets his gaze with unreadable calm, then shifts his attention back to the two arrivals. Asdri turns back toward the platform, watching as the two Tier 6 monsters approach with measured steps. High above the portal chamber, the domed ceiling hums faintly with residual magic. The air is thick¡ªtoo thick. Like a storm about to break. King Rewalt descends the stairs flanked by his royal guards, walking with quiet authority despite the pressure in the air. His steps are calm, deliberate. There is no fear in his face. He stops a few paces from the two monsters. "Welcome to Valgros," Rewalt says, voice firm but not hostile. "Your presence honors the pact." Gresvin tilts his head slightly, his void-black eye gleaming. His tone is cold and dry. "Human, you are bold. You call upon monsters like us for aid... even while your enemy are also monsters. Tell me¡ªare you not afraid we might just kill you all, take the key to the Sealed Relic, and be done with it?" A beat of silence follows. Even the guards flinch¡ªbut Rewalt doesn''t waver. He lifts his chin slightly. "Even if you did take the key," he replies calmly, "you wouldn''t be able to open the Sealed Relic. Only I can. It''s bound to my soul." He steps forward once more. "And don''t look down on us. This kingdom may not have a Tier 6 of its own, but it will not fall from the pressure of just two. We called for allies, not masters. Remember that. We''re working together here." Gresvin''s face twitches. Not fear, but annoyance. His lips curl into a faint grimace, like someone insulted by the very idea of being spoken back to. A tense pulse of mana radiates from his body¡ªspace ripples. A low-pitched hum grows sharper by the second. Then¡ª Medoran barks out a laugh, deep and rough like an avalanche crashing through flame. Medoran barks out a laugh, deep and rough like an avalanche crashing through flame. "Hah! There it is!" he says, turning toward Gresvin with a mocking grin. "You Astram dogs really can''t help yourselves, can you? Threaten first, posture second, then act surprised when someone doesn''t grovel." He leans in slightly, embers rising around him like fireflies. "Try not to plunder the kingdom before the war starts, eh? Or is that still policy where you come from?" Gresvin''s eye twitches. The void-black one darkens further, drawing in ambient light like a sinkhole. The temperature in the hall drops a few degrees in an instant, frost crackling along the edges of the polished floor despite Medoran''s heat. His voice is quiet. Too quiet. "Do you want to fight now, Medoran?" The moment those words leave his lips, the world seems to tighten. An aura erupts from Gresvin like a detonation in slow motion¡ªsilent but overwhelming. Invisible pressure slams into the room, a gravitational force that makes knees buckle and throats seize. The nearest guards collapse outright, eyes wide with terror, some gasping for air. The marble beneath Gresvin''s feet cracks in a spiderweb pattern. Up above, Prince Asdri moves instantly. Crackling lightning flares from his body as he unleashes his full aura. He plants himself between his father and the blast, arms wide, shielding Rewalt with everything he has. The impact hits him like a tidal wave. He grits his teeth. His knees buckle slightly, but he holds. The weight of a Tier 6''s killing intent is not something even a peak Tier 5 can truly withstand. But he doesn''t flinch. "Enough!" Asdri growls, his voice strained but clear. "You were summoned to fight our enemies. Not each other." The command hangs in the air. Gresvin doesn''t respond at first. His gaze flicks to Asdri, studying him like looking at a brave insect. Then, slowly, the oppressive weight begins to recede. The air lightens. The frost fades. The tension in the room begins to uncoil. Gresvin straightens his coat calmly, as if nothing happened. "...Fine," he mutters. "For now." Medoran, unfazed, scoffs and crosses his arms, his laughter finally dying down. King Rewalt exhales softly, then steps forward to reassert control. "That''s enough for today," he says. "You''ll both be briefed properly later. For now, you may rest. Accommodations have been prepared." He gestures toward one of the side corridors. Medoran grunts. "Hmph. About time." He turns without waiting for further instructions, molten eyes casting a final glance at the cracked marble beneath Gresvin''s feet. "I''ll burn this place down myself if the food''s terrible." Gresvin doesn''t bother with a reply. He gives Rewalt a thin, dismissive glance, then simply vanishes¡ªone step, and space folds around him like paper. In the next blink, he''s gone. The silence that follows is like a held breath being let go. Asdri slowly straightens, brushing a streak of blood from the corner of his mouth. His aura fades, but the tension in his body remains. Rewalt watches the space where the two monsters exited, his face unreadable. Asdri finally speaks, voice low but firm. "Father... you didn''t tell me you were asking help from the monsters." Rewalt doesn''t respond right away. He turns toward his son, walking slowly back to the throne, his boots echoing softly on the stone floor. "Because I knew you''d object." Asdri follows after him. "Of course. You already know I''ve traveled to other continents, and most of the time, humans and monsters are always in conflict. I''m honestly surprised they agreed." Rewalt sits down on the throne with a quiet sigh, the weight of the day¡ªand the decision¡ªsettling across his shoulders. He rests one hand on the armrest, eyes focused ahead. "They agreed," he says slowly, "because there are no humans on their continent." Asdri blinks. "What?" Rewalt leans forward slightly. "Their world is almost isolated. Separate. That land across the western divide... it''s ruled by strength and fear. No kingdoms. No diplomacy. Just survival. The monsters who live there don''t hate humans as much as those on other continents¡ªbecause they''ve never had to." He glances at his son. "That''s why we reached out to them. Not because they''re trustworthy. Not because they''re kind. But because they''re distant." Asdri frowns, arms crossed. "And the human kingdoms on the other continents?" Rewalt''s gaze sharpens. "I didn''t even try to contact them." The prince''s eyes narrow. "Why?" Rewalt answers without hesitation. "Because I don''t trust them." "Those kingdoms play a long game, Asdri. They move slowly, behind closed doors, with too many eyes and ears. If word of the Sealed Relic reached them..." He shakes his head. "They''d either send an envoy with false smiles¡ªor an army." He turns back to his son. "These monsters came from a continent near us. No stake in our politics. And more importantly..." He lets the words hang for a breath. "They aren''t known for crossing to other continents. They don''t expand outward. They fight each other, mostly. So the chance that they''ll betray us and inform the other continents about the Relic..." He trails off, letting the implication settle. "It''s low. Not impossible. But lower than any human kingdom with ambition." Asdri doesn''t answer at first. He''s staring at the ground, jaw clenched, brow furrowed in thought. Finally, he speaks. "You gambled everything." Rewalt nods. "Yes." Asdri looks up, frustration and reluctant understanding mixing in his expression. "And if you''re wrong?" Rewalt''s face hardens. "Then we die. But if I did nothing¡ªwe''d still die. At least this way, we have a fighting chance." Chapter 180 - 182: Medoran And Gresvin Are Coming Braenhall city, war council chamber The war table is heavy with maps and scattered intelligence scrolls, its surface lit by dim, flickering lanternlight. A breeze whispers through the open windows¡ªcool, dry air carrying with it the faint scent of ash. Braenhall is theirs now. But there is no celebration here. Gander sits at the far end of the room, his pale fingers stained with ink as he slowly etches a sigil onto a parchment with a bone-quill. Across from him, Gorath leans against the wall like a boulder given breath¡ªhis ten-meter frame crouched unnaturally just to fit into the stone chamber, one elbow propped lazily on a reinforced support beam that creaks under the weight. Varkas paces near the window, wolfish eyes sharp in the dim light, arms crossed over his broad chest. His claws twitch occasionally, betraying the restlessness in his frame. The air is thick with tension, like all of them are waiting for the sky to break open. Lysaria lounges with ease in a high-backed chair, one leg crossed over the other, her glowing eyes half-lidded but alert. Only one seat remains empty. A shadow flickers. Then¡ªwithout warning¡ªVaelith steps out of nothing, emerging from the dim corner of the chamber like he''d always been there. His body coalesces from darkness itself, his cloak of living shade rustling with unnatural movement. "Let us hear what you gather." Gander says immediately, not looking up from his sigil. Vaelith inclines his head, his voice smooth and quiet, with just the faintest rasp. "Just as His Majesty said. Two Tier 6 monsters arrived at Valgros. They didn''t even bother to hide their presence. Their auras swept through the capital like a storm. Everyone felt it." Gorath shifts slightly. "Did you see them?" Vaelith nods. "I did." He steps forward, stopping at the edge of the table. "The first monster name Medoran. He arrived wearing armor of crimson steel veined with ember. It pulses like molten blood, alive with fire. His hair is like charred flame, and he wears a helm shaped like some ancient beast. His presence is... oppressive. The very air buckles around him with heat." "Fire user?" Lysaria muses. "I love fighting fire user, because they are easy to manipulate." Gander finally looks up, eyes narrow. "And the second?" Vaelith''s lips twitch faintly. Not quite a smile. "Second monster name Gresvin. Astram''s representative. Tall. Slender. Dressed in black leather, perfectly clean¡ªno markings, no crests. Silver hair. Eyes¡ªone blue, one black. He probably uses dark element." Gander leans back in his chair, folding the parchment in front of him with slow precision. He lets the silence linger a moment before speaking. "I guess the two I fought from Astram''s side didn''t come," he mutters. "Would''ve been better if they had. At least I''m familiar with their power." Lysaria lifts her head, a curious glint in her glowing eyes. "Ohh? You fought two Tier 6s and survive? After all, you are not really a combatant type." Gander exhales through his nose, a humorless sound. "Even if I''m not, I can still take on two Tier 6s if they''re around my level. But at that time, I was already injured." He flexes his hand absently, the memory still sharp behind his tired expression. "I had just finished fighting that Astram bastard... injured me pretty badly. If His Majesty hadn''t arrived when I fight those two..." His voice trails off. "I wouldn''t be sitting here." Lysaria smirks faintly, her voice low. "So that''s why you asked him to revive me." Gander doesn''t deny it. "Of course. With you back, we''re not gambling every fight on one person pulling through." She uncrosses her legs, leaning forward slightly, interest sharpening in her tone. "Together, we can handle four Tier 6''s around our levels... maybe more if they''re not significantly above us." He nods. "Exactly. And if they''re stronger¡ªwell, between my curses and your power, we can still stall or cripple them. Even Tier 6s bleed if you know where to cut." Varkas said. "You two planning a duet of death already?" Lysaria flashes him a grin full of teeth. "Would you prefer we let you tank a few hits from Tier 6s instead?" The lycanthrope growls, but it''s more amused than hostile. "Tch. I''ll pass." Varkas stops pacing, his claws tapping lightly against the stone floor. He casts a sidelong glance at the two mages, voice dry with a hint of mock surrender. "I guess we''ll just leave those two monsters to you two, then." Lysaria licks her lips, a spark of anticipation dancing in her eyes. "Of course. You can focus on the small fries. Try not to get overwhelmed." Gorath clicks his tongue, the sound like stone grinding against stone. "Tch. Don''t lump me in with him. I''d love to fight a Tier 6." Gander turns to him with a raised brow, then nods thoughtfully. "In terms of raw strength, you''re basically as strong as a level 600 Tier 6 anyway." ---- Valgros capital, royal meeting chamber The chamber is tense with the weight of hard decisions. Light streams through tall windows etched with royal sigils, illuminating the long oaken table at the center. King Rewalt sits at its head, his fingers steepled before him. Beside him stands Prince Asdri, arms folded, eyes trained on a detailed map of the continent. Around them, commanders and advisors murmur softly, debating contingencies and fallback plans. The door bursts open. A servant stumbles in, breath ragged, clothes disheveled. His face is pale, and he trembles as he drops to one knee before the king. "S-Sire... Your Majesty...!" King Rewalt''s voice cuts through the room like a blade. "Speak." The servant gulps, words tumbling out in a rush. "Th-the two... the two monsters! They¡ªThey''ve left! They just flew out of the palace a moment ago!" Asdri steps forward, frowning. "What? Why?" "They were... angry," the servant says, voice barely above a whisper. "They said they wouldn''t wait any longer. Lord Medoran was pacing like a caged beast, and then he just roared¡ª''I''ve had enough of this delay. If you humans won''t move, I will.'' Then Gresvin muttered something about wasted time and followed him. They flew east. I¡ªI think they''re headed for the city that recently fell... Braenhall." Prince Asdri''s eyes narrow. "They''re going to attack alone?" The servant nods shakily. "Yes, my prince. They said they''d ''free it themselves.'' Lord Medoran called it an embarrassment that it''s still in enemy hands." King Rewalt''s expression darkens. He leans forward, eyes sharp with unease. The servant continue quickly, still kneeling. "Lord Medoran left first, but lord Gresvin followed right after. He didn''t say much... just looked irritated. Like he didn''t care what anyone else thought." Prince Asdri places a hand on the table, calm but firm. "It''s alright, Father. In a way, this works in our favor." Rewalt glances at him. "Explain." Asdri gestures toward Braenhall on the map. "If our enemy has the power to stop two Tier 6 combatants, then we need to know that now. Because up to this point, we still don''t understand the true extent of their strength. The fact that they could summon a level 600 Tier 6 monster is already alarming. Let Medoran and Gresvin test the waters¡ªit''ll give us insight into the enemy''s upper limits." Rewalt''s tone sharpens. "And if the enemy kills them?" He lifts his head, meeting his father''s gaze directly. "That rarely happens. Tier 6s don''t die easily. Not on this continent, and not even on the main one. They always have contingencies¡ªitems, escape abilities, spatial breaks, blessings. Even if things turn against them, they''ll survive." ---- Back to Braenhall city. A sudden pulse ripples through the air¡ªsubtle, but unmistakable to those attuned. The flames in the lanterns flicker violently, shadows stretching unnaturally along the walls. Lysaria straightens in her seat, eyes glowing brighter. Gander''s quill stills mid-ink, his head tilting slightly as he exhales slowly. "They''re coming," Lysaria says, rising to her feet. Her tone is calm, but her fingers flex with anticipation. The pressure grows by the second¡ªone searing hot and wild, the other cold, vast, and suffocating. Varkas''s ears twitch. Gorath''s eyes narrow. Gander finally speaks, voice dry. "Well. I''m not even surprised." Varkas raises a brow. "What, did you see this coming?" Gander nods slowly. "Of course. In their minds, everyone on this continent is an insect. They don''t wait for orders. They don''t negotiate. They destroy obstacles." A sound like rolling thunder echoes across the sky¡ªMedoran''s aura burns with unrestrained heat, distorting the very air above Braenhall. In contrast, a wave of cold darkness floods the edges of the city, sending flocks of birds scattering in terror. Gresvin''s presence is quieter but somehow worse¡ªlike a void devouring sound and color. Lysaria''s smile sharpens. "Fire and darkness. Dramatic." Gander''s eyes harden. "Medoran will be straight forward. But that fellow Gresvin..." He trails off as the lantern nearest him gutters out, snuffed by some invisible force. From the far corner, Vaelith emerges again, cloak twitching, eyes glowing faintly. "They''re already above us," Vaelith says quietly. "Medoran is coming straight in. Gresvin is... watching." Lysaria steps toward the balcony, pushing open the doors. The sky above is painted red and black¡ªtwo monstrous auras swirling like twin storms. She laughs softly. "Well," she says, lifting her hand, magic already crackling along her fingers. "Let''s go greet our guests." Gorath cracks his knuckles. "Do you think they''re here to talk?" "No," Gander replies flatly. "I think they''re here to remind us who we''re supposed to fear." He rises from his seat, grabbing his staff from beside the table. Lysaria grins. "Then let''s disappoint them." Chapter 181 - 183: Tier 6 Skill: Covenant of the Dying Spiral Without even a word, Medoran hovers above the city like a burning god of fire. His crimson armor glows white-hot at the joints, molten veins pulsing like a second heartbeat beneath the plates. His hand stretches out¡ªopen, then closes into a fist. A deep hum echoes across the sky as heat coils around him, air warping violently. Then, in a single, fluid motion, he releases it. A Tier 5 skill slams down from the heavens¡ªa roaring fist of flame and force, wrapped in spiraling embers and screaming winds, aimed directly at the center of Braenhall. But¡ª Nothing. No screams. No running. No panic. Not a single soldier flinches. A split second before impact, a wave of pitch-black energy erupts from the ground, swallowing the attack whole. The flame disappears with a muffled hiss¡ªlike a candle snuffed out underwater. Not even smoke remains. Medoran''s brow rises in visible surprise. And then¡ª A voice, sultry and amused, threads through the air like silk laced with thorns. "That''s very rude of you," Lysaria says. "Not even a greeting first?" She steps into view atop a spire, hair drifting in the wind, her body wrapped in flowing battle robes threaded with curse-glyphs. Her eyes glow like twin moons, and the grin on her lips is dangerous. Gresvin appears behind Medoran, floating without motion, like a shadow that simply decided to exist in the open. His mismatched eyes scan the city below, calm and detached. Medoran throws his head back and laughs¡ªa booming, guttural sound that rolls across the city. "Now this is a surprise!" he bellows. "There''s two Tier 6s in this backwater continent?! I thought you rats were just playing with stolen power." Lysaria tilts her head, lips twitching. "Backwater? Funny. Coming from someone who announces himself with fireworks." Gander rises beside her, his staff in one hand, curses coiling around the other like serpents. He doesn''t bother speaking¡ªhis presence alone radiates venom and cold calculation. Gresvin finally speaks, voice low and flat. "Interesting. They''re not illusions. They''re real." His gaze lingers on Gander, then shifts to Lysaria. "Her presence is layered... built for pain." Medoran grins wider, flames licking the edges of his helm. "Doesn''t matter. I like this. It''s been a while since I stretched properly." Lysaria licks her lips slowly, deliberately, eyes gleaming with a cruel, delighted hunger. The wind catches her hair, whipping it like strands of shadow in the red-black sky. "Your life will be my thank-you gift for His Majesty," she purrs. "So try to scream loud enough for him to hear it." The moment hangs, and then vanishes in a detonation of motion and power. Medoran roars, igniting the sky around him. Fire blossoms from his body like wings of a phoenix, and in a heartbeat, he''s already closed the distance, flaming gauntlet hurtling toward Lysaria''s skull. She doesn''t dodge. Tier 5 Skill: Witherveil Cloak Black mist explodes from her form, forming a veil of decay around her. Medoran''s fist slams into her body, and passes through smoke. A decoy. A curse-layered afterimage. Behind him, Lysaria hisses. Tier 5 Skill: Noxious Requiem A shockwave of violet and green curse energy ripples outward. Medoran''s armor screams as the magic eats at the ember-forged steel, black veins spreading along the plates. Meanwhile, Gander lifts his staff, eyes locked on Gresvin. "You''re standing still. Let me fix that." Tier 5 Skill: Bind of a Thousand Tongues Dozens of shadowy cords burst from the ground like snakes, each etched with runes and the echo of screams. They lash out toward Gresvin, who remains motionless. Then¡ª Tier 5 Skill: Voidwalk Gresvin vanishes. Not teleports¡ªceases to exist for a heartbeat. The tendrils snap through empty space. He reappears beside Gander, hand reaching for his throat. But Gander is already chanting. Tier 5 Skill: Echo of the Dying Curse A dome of black smoke explodes outward from Gander, filled with whispering voices. Gresvin halts his strike, his arm trembling¡ªhis body remembering pain that hasn''t happened yet. His voice is flat, but edged. "You''re clever." Gander smiles without warmth. "You''re stalling. Let me guess. He''s the hammer, you''re the knife." "Who cares about that bastard, I will kill you, then I will kill that bastard next." Medoran, enraged by the corrosion on his armor, lifts both arms. Tier 5 Skill: Solar Devastation A miniature sun forms in his palm¡ªcondensed, writhing fire pressed into the size of a spearhead. He hurls it downward at Lysaria. She doesn''t dodge. She sings. Tier 5 Skill: Dirge of the Leper Queen Her voice vibrates the sky, low and discordant, as necrotic energy coats the battlefield. The sunstrike collides, but instead of a blast, it melts into a pit of black sludge midair, warped by her plague domain. She twirls once, releasing another curse with a flick of her wrist. Tier 5 Skill: Abyssal Bloom A field of ghostly flowers erupts around Medoran, each one draining magic on contact. He flares in resistance, but his aura dims, just slightly. "You''re leaking," she mocks. "Maybe you should''ve stretched harder." --- The rooftop trembles faintly beneath their boots, not from impact, but from the sheer pressure of power in the skies above. Varkas narrows his eyes, watching the explosive chaos unfold. Four figures clash in the air, surrounded by pulses of color and darkness¡ªtiered magic woven so tightly it looks like warping reality. He clicks his tongue. "Are they really using Tier 5 skills?" Beside him, Gorath stands with arms folded, his massive frame unmoving despite the distant shockwaves. His eyes track every movement with a predator''s focus. "They are," Gorath replies, voice gravelly. "But it''s more proper to call them semi¨CTier 6." Varkas looks at him sideways. "How so?" Gorath nods toward the sky. "Because it''s not just the skill¡ªit''s the user. Same reason our Tier 4s are far more powerful than the Tier 4 skills conjured by Tier 4 powerhouses. Power isn''t in the tier¡ªit''s in us." Varkas watches as Lysaria disappears into smoke again, her plague-song unraveling Medoran''s flames with contemptuous ease. "Hah... fair point. They''re weaving those skills like tools, not weapons." Gorath''s eyes glint as Gander counters Gresvin''s blade-like pressure with a single chant, unraveling a shadow construct before it finishes forming. "They''ve fought stronger," Gorath mutters. "You can see it. That calm." Varkas watches as Lysaria glides through a slash of flame without breaking stride, her curse aura peeling flesh from steel. "Yeah," he says, smirking slightly. "And they''re enjoying it." The sky rumbles again¡ªanother Tier 5 collision. This time, not an explosion, but a collapse, like reality recoiling from the layered curses and elemental fury clashing overhead. Varkas exhales through his nose. "If this is Tier 5..." Gorath grunts. "Wait until they actually start using their Tier 6 arsenal." ---- Lysaria growls, flinging another pulse of rot toward Medoran, only for him to detonate it midair with another solar flare. She skids backward across the wind, irritation flashing in her eyes. Across the sky, Gander slams his staff into the air, chains of runes snapping into existence¡ªbut again, Gresvin vanishes, slipping through space like a knife through silk. Lysaria clicks her tongue sharply, eyes narrowing. "This is getting tedious." Gander''s fingers tighten around his staff, jaw locked in silent concentration as Gresvin dances through space like smoke. Another attack slips past. Another moment wasted. Then¡ª A voice slides into his mind, smooth and cold. "Gander." "I hear you." "This isn''t working. They refuse to coordinate." "I noticed." His tone is dry, laced with barely restrained annoyance. "If they won''t fight as a pair..." He smiles thinly. "Then we make them." He lifts his gaze, locking eyes with Lysaria across the battlefield. Out loud, calm and cutting, he speaks. "Then we let them work together." Lysaria grins immediately, wicked and beautiful. "They''re going to hate this." The air between them twists. Space bends. Light fractures. Their voices rise in perfect synchrony, ancient syllables pouring from their lips, the chant deeper than sound, resonating in marrow and soul. Tier 6 Skill: Covenant of the Dying Spiral A vortex of black and violet light explodes from their palms, spiraling outward like a blooming death flower. Threads of pure mana arc from Gander''s staff and Lysaria''s fingers, intertwining midair. The moment their energies meet, a shockwave rolls across the battlefield¡ªsilent but undeniable. Every cloud in the sky bends away. Between them, a spectral sigil spins into being¡ªhalf curse, half construct. It anchors to their chests with glowing brands, and in the next heartbeat¡ª Their souls connect. Gander gasps softly, breath caught in his throat. He feels it immediately. Her madness. Her rot. Her hatred and joy, burning elegance. It coils with his precision, his venom, his cold, patient fury. Mana roars through their veins like twin rivers crashing into one sea. Lysaria shudders with delight, a moan escaping her lips. "Gods, yes." Gander said. "Control yourself." Medoran halts mid-air, eyes narrowing as he feels the pressure spike. "What the hell did they just¡ª?" Lysaria''s body rises, slow and deliberate, eyes glowing brighter than ever. "You''re not the center of this battlefield anymore," she purrs at Medoran. Gander steps forward, staff raised high. "You''re the experiment." They speak in unison, voices echoing as one: "Let''s see how well you work together." Then they move. Faster. Heavier. Wrong. Lysaria vanishes into vapor¡ªthen reappears behind Gresvin, a curse-spear already forming in her hand. Its tip drips with coalesced entropy, screaming silently. At the same instant, Gander''s staff cracks the sky, summoning a web of anti-space glyphs that lock Medoran in midair for just a flicker of time. Just enough. Tier 6 Skill: Malediction Symphony A field erupts between them, comprised of layered curses, harmonic vibrations of death and rot. Each beat of their linked souls sends a pulse of destabilizing energy across the air. Flames sputter. Shadows recoil. Chapter 182 - 184: The Death Of Medoran And Gresvin Medoran snarls, throwing up a wall of molten light. Lysaria speaks calmly: "Break it." Gander answers without delay: "Done." He slams his palm forward¡ªcurse-chains burst from the vortex, wrapping around the solar wall. The moment it hesitates, Lysaria''s plague-laced spear tears through it like wet cloth. Medoran barely avoids a lethal blow¡ªbarely. Gresvin is not as lucky. A chain lashes out from behind him, laced with predictive binding. It wraps his ankle, dragging him mid-dodge into Lysaria''s wake. Her palm brushes his chest¡ªonly a touch. But curses bloom like flowers. Tier 5 Skill: Decaymark Pulse They detonate a heartbeat later. Gresvin is blasted back, cloak torn, aura flickering. He vanishes again¡ªbut slower. Medoran snarls, teeth bared beneath his helm as he whips around to catch Gresvin struggling to stabilize in the air, curses still eating away at his aura. The scent of scorched mana and rot burns in his nostrils. "We don''t have a choice now!" he growls. "Either we work together or we die here¡ªalong with whatever pride we''ve got left." He eyes the unholy storm building between Gander and Lysaria¡ªthe black sun above them writhing with curse-threads and ethereal runes, pulsing like a heart that shouldn''t beat. It''s getting worse by the second. Gresvin clicks his tongue, brushing scorched fabric from his shoulder, his tone laced with disgust. "This is the first and last time I''ll do something like this with the likes of you... Ember Claw trash." Medoran smirks, heat flaring behind his visor. "That''s the spirit." They move¡ªtogether. Tier 6 Skill: Concord of Cataclysm (Medoran) Medoran slams both fists together, and a ring of molten runes ignites around his body. His aura spikes¡ªraw, radiant heat floods the sky, forcing even the clouds to split apart. Fire and solar force spiral into his limbs, his armor gleaming with threads of living magma. His speed doubles. His power triples. Tier 6 Skill: Echo Null (Gresvin) A wave of colorless light bursts from Gresvin''s body. Sound and light vanish around him. His figure blurs¡ªuntouchable, nearly dimensionless. Time skips subtly in his presence. For five seconds, he exists in multiple moments, his strikes delayed and then colliding all at once. They launch. Gresvin flickers beside Gander with impossible speed, his blades humming with Tier 6 Skill: Shadow Severance¡ªan attack that slices not body, but presence. Gander chants without fear, his staff already flaring with a retaliatory curse. But it''s Medoran who crashes in first, streaking through the air like a solar comet¡ª Tier 6 Skill: Supernova Lance He dives toward Lysaria, who twirls midair to meet him, her eyes glowing with unnatural calm. From her palm, she conjures: Tier 6 Skill: Heart of the Withered Moon A silver-black sigil blooms and then detonates in silence, slowing time in a radius and flooding the space with necrotic stasis. Medoran''s lance clashes into it¡ªand explodes, but instead of flames, a storm of silence and entropy wraps around him. Medoran screams, body fighting against the death aura suffocating his fire. Gander chants again. Tier 6 Skill: Dread Choir Ascendant Ghostly voices begin to sing behind him. A chorus of forgotten names, echoing through folded space. Each word tears into Gresvin''s Echo Null like knives. He falters,his dimensional shift fractures. He flickers into full view. Lysaria doesn''t waste the opening. Tier 6 Skill: Black Eden Thorns Thorned vines of plague-stained glass burst from every direction, reflecting light, twisting curses, folding space. They spiral into Gresvin''s position like a blooming lotus of death. Gresvin slashes three away¡ªbut a fourth scrapes his side, and the wound sings. Tier 6 Skill: Pale Judgement (Gresvin) He inhales once, deeply. Then exhales. In that breath, every light source dims. A sickly-white ripple spreads from him, erasing magic in its path. The thorns vanish. The curses evaporate. ---- Down below, the city hums faintly under the protective dome, its translucent barrier shimmering with strain as each pulse from the sky above batters it like waves against glass. Dust drifts from rooftops. Streetlamps flicker. And though silence reigns among the citizens hiding in reinforced shelters, two figures remain atop a tower, unmoving. Varkas leans forward on the edge, arms crossed. His sharp eyes don''t blink, don''t look away¡ªnot even when the sky above tears in half from clashing Tier 6 power. A massive explosion of black and red blooms above, silent yet cataclysmic, and the barrier wails faintly in protest. "Hells..." Varkas murmurs. "We saw Tier 6 fights all the time back in the old world. Even lived through a few." He exhales slowly, almost reverently. "But damn if it still doesn''t leave you speechless every time." Gorath stands beside him, arms folded, his towering frame completely still despite the tremors beneath his boots. His eyes follow the chaos above without blinking. "You''re right," he rumbles. "If not for this barrier, the city would''ve been flattened a dozen times already." Varkas chuckles dryly, but there''s no humor in it. "What gets me isn''t just the power. It''s the control. You see that?" He nods toward the spiraling vortex where Gander and Lysaria stand, twin beacons of devastation. "They''re weaving curses and plague skills like they''re painting. That''s not just power. That''s artistry." The sky pulses again¡ªMedoran slamming through a barrier of plague-glass while Gresvin snaps forward with a ripple of white judgment, erasing curses by sheer force of will. After a couple of tense minutes, the air stills slightly. The storm in the heavens begins to fray, its furious tempo slowing¡ªnot by will, but by exhaustion. Gorath narrows his eyes. "Looks like the fight is coming to an end." Above, the battleground in the sky burns with flickering remnants of what was once overwhelming power. The black sun has dimmed. The vortex of curse-light unravels. And the Tier 6 warriors hover there¡ªbattered, burned, bloodied. Medoran hovers a few meters above a destroyed mountain, his breath ragged behind his scorched helm. The molten runes around him flicker, dimming. His armor, once gleaming with threads of living fire, now bleeds steam and ash with every strained movement. Across from him, Gresvin levitates with effort, one hand pressed against a bleeding gash at his side. His white ripple¡ªPale Judgement¡ªhas long faded, and the lingering energy of Echo Null is gone. The flickers that once made him unreadable are no more. He''s fully visible now¡ªand vulnerable. Only one Tier 6 skill each remains. Across the battlefield, Lysaria hovers with unnerving poise, one arm dripping black ichor, the other still calmly holding her plague-forged spear. Her robes are torn, blood marking her side, but her aura remains stable¡ªcruelly composed. Beside her, Gander''s robes are shredded and his staff dim slightly, but his presence pulses darkly with unspent malice. The twisted chorus of Dread Choir Ascendant still hums around him, quieter now but far from gone. Lysaria tilts her head, smirking faintly as she surveys the scorched battlefield. Her voice cuts through the fading haze. "Is that it?" she says mockingly. "Was this the best your continent could offer? How disappointing. I suppose this is where it ends." Gresvin snarls, coughing smoke from his lungs. He grits his teeth, eyes locked on the two standing across from them. "You two..." he spits. "You''re not from here. There''s no way this barren continent spawned monsters like you." Gander chuckles, dark and unbothered. He steps forward, lifting his broken staff. It sparks with residual cursefire. "Who cares where we came from?" he says coldly. "You chose to oppose His Majesty. And for that¡ª" His staff points at them. "¡ªyou die here today." No more words. They move. Final Clash. Gresvin vanishes in a flicker, reappearing behind Lysaria with a blur of lightless momentum. His remaining Tier 6 skill activates¡ª Tier 6 Skill: Temporal Severance The blade in his hand sings with layered timelines. It slices through possibility itself¡ªevery swing is a question asked in parallel, and all answers land at once. He aims for Lysaria''s spine, heart, throat¡ªeach strike designed to kill. But Lysaria is ready. Tier 6 Skill: Witherveil Spiral She turns, and her entire form becomes a vortex of rot and mirrored glass. His first strike lands¡ªand passes through an afterimage. The second catches a decoy. The third¡ªfinally¡ªmeets flesh. Blood splashes across the sky. But her spear is already in motion. She drives it into his abdomen mid-spin. A direct hit. Down below, Medoran ignites. Tier 6 Skill: Solum Infernum His body becomes a core of sunfire¡ªgravity, heat, and wrath condensed into a humanoid shape. He rockets forward, becoming a meteor of fury and flame aimed straight at Gander. Gander responds with his final card. Tier 6 Skill: Monarch''s Cursefield He slams his cracked staff into the air, and a dome of inverted runes blossoms outward. Reality folds¡ªMedoran''s fire bends around it, his momentum slowing as if he''s diving through treacle. But he keeps coming, body tearing apart from within. Their collision is deafening. Fire meets curse. Heaven cracks. Two cataclysmic explosions erupt in the sky¡ªone black, one red. Ripples tear through the clouds as shockwaves roll across the heavens, warping light and rattling the very city below. The protective barrier shudders under the weight of impact, groaning as threads of golden and obsidian energy grind against each other. Medoran is the first to recover, barely. His body flickers with cracks of molten light, leaking power from every joint. Blood drips behind his visor as he reaches inside his charred cloak and pulls out a small obsidian token¡ªan emergency escape item, forged from forbidden solarite and void crystal. He channels mana into it. Nothing happens. His eyes widen. Gresvin, panting and bleeding from the mouth, does the same. He draws a thin crystalline shard from a belt pouch and snaps it between two fingers. Spatial energy sparks for a heartbeat¡ªand then fizzles into smoke. "...No," Gresvin breathes. Chapter 183 - 185: Building Portals (part 1) They both try again. Harder. Medoran pours more power into the token until it glows red-hot in his hand. Gresvin attempts to stabilize the dimensional matrix of his shard with runic chant. Neither item responds. Across the battlefield, Lysaria watches them with a slow, amused blink. Her plague spear spins lazily in one hand, the tip slick with Gresvin''s blood. She lets out a quiet, musical laugh that doesn''t match the blood drying on her jaw. "Oh, did you really think you could run?" she says lightly, almost playfully. "How sweet." Medoran grits his teeth. "You''re blocking spatial transfer¡ª!" "Obviously," she cuts in, voice sharp with mockery. "This entire zone is under the influence of a Tier 7 item: Seal of Ashen Heaven. Anything that tries to breach this space¡ªteleportation, shifting, dimensional phasing¡ªwon''t even sputter. You''re caged." Medoran''s breath hitches. "A Tier 7 item...?" He stares at the battlefield, disbelief warring with panic in his scorched expression. "Only my leader has access to that kind of artifact. Who are you?" His voice cracks through the haze like a blade, aimed directly at Gander. Gander tilts his head slightly, as if the question is a mild inconvenience. He walks forward slowly, each step echoing with the subtle resonance of suppressed power. The faint hum of the Dread Choir Ascendant lingers behind him, like the whisper of a funeral dirge. "You''ve asked that already," he says, voice cold and smooth. "This is the second time." Medoran clenches his fists. "Answer me." Gander stops just out of reach, his face calm, eyes shadowed beneath the torn edge of his hood. "And my answer remains the same." His staff lifts, runes dimly pulsing. "It''s none of your concern." Medoran snarls and lunges forward, molten light surging through his limbs in one last desperate charge. Too slow. Gander moves like falling night. One whisper of a curse¡ªNull Womb¡ªand Medoran freezes mid-stride, eyes wide in shock as time falters within him. A moment later, Gander is in front of him. The broken staff slams through Medoran''s chest. A soundless impact. Then a sharp exhale of breath¡ªand silence. Medoran''s body drops, smoldering, lifeless. Gresvin lets out a hoarse cry, rage and despair warping his features. He lifts his blade again¡ª But Lysaria is already there. Her spear punctures his thigh, spins, and drives upward. The movement is elegant, clinical. He coughs blood, eyes wide in disbelief. "We were¡ªTier 6s...!" "You were," Lysaria murmurs, her voice as calm as falling snow. She leans in close, watching the light fade from his eyes. "But you were never important." With one final twist, her spear severs spine from soul. Gresvin crumples without another word, his body falling like so much discarded ash. A hush spreads across the battlefield. Then¡ª The sky clears. The cursed winds die. And in the city below¡ªsilence. For a moment, no one dares to move. Thousands of soldiers stand frozen on walls, towers, and the streets behind them, still bracing for death that never came. Then a single voice shouts, raw and disbelieving: "They''re dead!" Another cries out, "We won! They''re really dead!" A wave of sound erupts. Cheers explode from the battlements like cannon fire. Helmets are raised. Weapons thrust skyward. The city''s defenders scream themselves hoarse as the impossible sinks in¡ªthey lived. Soldiers clutch each other¡ªsome laughing, others weeping. A monster soldier near the east wall sinks to his knees. "That was scary... it felt like the sky was tearing apart." He breaks down, and no one mocks him. A captain slaps the young monster''s back, grinning like a man who''s forgotten what fear feels like. "Do you know what this means?" he says hoarsely. "The kingdom has a Tier 6. We have a Tier 6!" Voices pick up the cry across the wall. "Tier 6!" "They''re one of ours!" "I thought they were just a legend¡ª!" "The founders of the three great kingdoms were the last ones! That was a thousand years ago!" ---- In the quiet warmth of his private chamber, Alix sits in silence. A soft hum cuts through the stillness¡ªfaint. Before him floats a transparent screen, glowing faintly in the golden candlelight. [STATUS WINDOW] Alix Level: 500 Gold Coins: 8,090,637 Erevaris Kingdom Cities: 20 Population: 14,678,086 Population Needed for Next Level: 30,000,000] He leans back slightly in his high-backed chair, one elbow resting on the armrest, fingers steepled beneath his chin. "Level five hundred," he murmurs. The number doesn''t bring satisfaction. Only a distant acknowledgment of the work still ahead. He drums his fingers against the armrest, the soft tapping lost in the quiet of the room. "I''ve already taken two of the three kingdoms. Cities are stable. Refugees are coming in by the thousands..." His gaze lingers on the floating numbers. "But even with all that, I''m still short." His eyes drift upward, thoughtful. "The monsters that joined¡ªthe beast clans, the different tribes, even the ones hiding in the southern marshes... all of that, and I''m still under." He lets out a short breath, somewhere between annoyance and curiosity. The screen flickers slightly as if reacting to his thoughts. The glowing numbers stay unchanged. He continues quietly, "it means I''ve reached the ceiling of what this continent alone can give me." Alix leans forward, calling up his Inventory with a flick of his fingers. A new screen opens beside the [STATUS WINDOW], a translucent list unfolding in the air with faint metallic chimes. Rows of artifacts, soul shards, sealed tomes, and rare materials slide past until he pauses on a glowing blueprint marked: [INTERCITY PORTAL NODE: 1,000,000 Gold] A small smile touches his lips. "Hm. One million per portal..." He tilts his head. "And it links cities together. Fast movement between key locations. That''ll save time... consolidate supply lines, reaction forces, internal defense..." He glances at the lower right corner of the screen. [Current Gold: 8,090,637] "Eight million," he murmurs. "Down from sixty." His eyes flick briefly, and for a moment, his expression softens¡ªnot with regret, but quiet certainty. "Worth it," he says aloud. "Fifty million to bring Lysaria back." He returns to the blueprint list, then taps on the portal node. Another design appears: [CONTINENTAL GATEWAY: 3,000,000 Gold] The smile fades into a more calculating expression. "So. One million per intercity portal... I can build five." He leans back again, eyes glinting with quiet focus. "That''ll cost me five million." A pause. "Leaves me with just enough for the gateway." Alix''s eyes narrow slightly. Without hesitation, he reaches out with his mind. ''Thano.'' The connection is instant, the sensation like brushing his thoughts against a distant wire. A heartbeat later, he feels the minister''s reply¡ªalert, steady. ''Your Majesty?'' Alix doesn''t speak aloud. The mental voice is direct, commanding. ''Come to my private chamber. Immediately.'' Moments later, a faint shimmer of magic signals Thano''s arrival. The door to the chamber opens with a gentle click, and the Minister of Infrastructure steps through, his robes still dusted with parchment ash and faint traces of old chalk¡ªthe mark of someone pulled straight from drafting tables. "You called for me, Your Majesty?" Thano bows, composed but curious. Alix turns in his chair and gestures to the glowing screen still hovering beside him. With a thought, he materializes five blueprints from his inventory. The glowing schematics of the Intercity Portal Nodes float in midair between them, softly rotating. "Take these," Alix says evenly. "I want them built immediately in this five cities." Thano''s eyes flick over the designs. His posture straightens. "Intercity portals...? These will change everything." He hesitates only a second before nodding firmly. "Understood. We''ll begin construction at once. Coordination between those five cities will improve tenfold." Alix nods once. "Prioritize central node placement and structural resilience. I don''t want any disruption, magical or otherwise. Keep the anchors well-protected." Thano places a hand over his chest. "It will be done, Your Majesty. I''ll personally oversee the construction." "Good." Alix''s gaze lingers on the continental map for a moment, then shifts back to Thano. "Once they''re online, I''ll be building the next portal on another continent." Thano blinks. "...Oh, there are still other continent?" "Yes." Alix''s voice is quiet, but unyielding. "We''ve reached our ceiling here. The next stage begins soon." Thano bows again, this time lower. "Then I''ll ensure your foundation is solid, sire. The portals will be ready." Alix dismisses him with a nod, and Thano turns swiftly, cloak sweeping behind him as he strides from the room¡ªalready sending silent commands to his engineers before the door even closes. The next day, in Misorn City, the first city Alix ever conquered¡ªthings are stirring. Once little more than a fractured stronghold on the edge of survival, Misorn now stands as a breathtaking marvel of design and power. Its towers rise like polished bone and crystal above the verdant hills, arched walkways loop between structures glowing faintly with embedded runes, and shimmering canals wind through the city like veins of silver-blue light. Even the air here is different¡ªthicker with mana. Its spires and central domes glitter under the rising sun, and its wide, clean roads are packed with all manner of life. Monsters, mostly. Beastkin, scaled folk, winged hybrids, arachne vendors, and even a few polite ogres in trimmed coats¡ªall bustling peacefully in the streets. Because something is happening in the heart of the city, near the great plaza surrounding the Crystal Archive. A vast curtain of white light has emerged from nothingness, tall as a fortress wall and humming gently. It''s translucent¡ªyet behind it, there''s nothing but blinding glow. A slow, holy-sounding pulse emanates from it every few seconds, like a heartbeat echoing through the stone. They''ve seen it before. And they know what it means. Something is being built. Chapter 184 - 186: Building Portals (part 2) After a couple of hours, the curtain of light begins to dissolve¡ªslowly, like fog under a rising sun. The glow softens, dimming in waves, and then¡ª Fwum. A sudden gust of energy rushes outward as the last remnants of the veil vanish. The crowd gathered in Misorn gasps as one, all eyes locked on the newly revealed structure at the heart of the plaza. It stands like a crown of marble and obsidian¡ªarched gates woven with glowing filigree, shimmering runes etched into the frame, pulsing gently with power. A dome of crystal above the structure rotates slowly, channeling ambient mana into the node. Within the gate, a swirling pool of silver light shimmers¡ªactive. The portal is open. For a heartbeat, the monsters are silent. Then a young harpy in the crowd lets out a shriek of joy. "IT''S DONE! IT''S REALLY THE LEGENDARY PORTAL!" "By the gods, look at that beauty!" an elderly troll mutters, leaning on his cane, eyes wide with reverence. "Minister Thano wasn''t kidding. This thing''s... a miracle!" A pair of fox-kin merchants start hopping in place. "Do you think it connects to the others already?" one asks. "Who cares! I''m jumping in first!" shouts a bulky minotaur youth, pushing forward with laughing eyes. The excitement spreads like fire through dry grass. Children scamper closer to the gate, held back by laughing parents. Traders with carts are already discussing routes. Guards post themselves instinctively at its sides¡ªnot out of fear, but pride. "It''s open in Cras too!" someone shouts from the back, waving a communication crystal. "I just got word¡ªpeople are already stepping out of the portal there!" The cheers rise louder. In Delon City, far to the east¡ªknown for its artisan guilds and majestic forges¡ªthe scene is no less electric. Crowds gather in the Artisan Plaza, where sculptors, enchanters, and master smiths pause their work to witness the unveiling. As the light fades, revealing their own intercity portal, a slender lizardfolk with golden spectacles gasps, "The craftsmanship on that gate... who built this? It''s divine work." A dwarf-shaped golem, humming softly beside him, claps its stone hands together. "Function and form... at last! We can send apprentices to Misorn for rare ores without waiting weeks!" From the steps of the Stonewheel Foundry, Guildmaster Renki folds his arms, nodding in approval. "All hail the king," he says gruffly. "This is a miracle." --- In Varestand City, the site of the Celestia Magisterium Academy, the students have poured out of their domed lecture halls. Robes flap in the wind. Young monsters of every kind¡ªscaled, horned, winged, and shadow-wrapped¡ªgather near the tower''s southern courtyard where the portal has formed. "Ohhhh! Look! It''s glowing like an arcane reactor!" a young naga squeals, floating slightly from excitement. A bat-winged professor adjusts her monocle. "No... this is far more advanced. The spatial layering alone¡ªdo you feel the binding spell around it? More than tier 5! At least!" The gate hums once¡ªand a handful of civilians from Misorn walk through, blinking in surprise as they step onto Varestand''s soil. The students lose it. "I WANNA GO TO CRAS!" one shouts. "I''m visiting Delon! I''ve always wanted to see the Singing Anvils!" "Forget class today! This is historic!" Inside the highest spire of the Celestia Magisterium Academy, the air smells faintly of scorched paper and old ink. Magical scrolls hum quietly from their racks. The walls of the Headmaster''s office are lined with tomes, crystal globes, and jars of rare beast eyes. But at this moment, none of it matters. Groth stands on the wide stone balcony just outside his office, clawed hands resting on the smooth railing, his long crimson tail twitching behind him. The wind carries the distant cheers of students and citizens below, but his golden eyes are fixed squarely on the swirling, silver gate that now pulses in the courtyard. The old salamander''s voice is rough and low, like coal scraping iron. "...So. It''s real." His molten gaze narrows slightly. He watches the portal churn and shimmer with otherworldly power, its energy pressing against the very air like the breath of a slumbering god. Groth doesn''t move. Doesn''t blink. He just stares. Then he lets out a slow, smoky breath through his nostrils, steam curling from the corners of his mouth. "...Your Majesty," he mutters under his breath, the edges of his voice worn with awe and disbelief. "You are full of surprises." His clawed hand rises, gently stroking the edge of his jaw as if to reassure himself he''s still awake. "Portals... real portals... in my lifetime..." He chuckles once, dry and disbelieving. "Never thought, I would see one. We used to call them legends. Lost magic." He shakes his head slowly, voice quiet but laced with reverence. "And yet here you are... building them in a day." Groth turns his gaze skyward, toward the distant direction of the Noctaris City. There''s no way to see Alix from here, but it doesn''t matter. -- In Cras, the trade capital, things move faster. The second the light fades, merchant caravans already waiting at the base of the plaza surge forward. Porters load boxes. Couriers sprint toward the gate. Money changes hands at record speed. A grizzled orc merchant grins as he flips a gold coin into the air. "You know what this means?" he says to his partner, a sleek goblin in a bright vest. The goblin grins. "Business. Big business." "New customers, new routes, same taxes," the orc chuckles. "Praise the King." Around them, traders are already stepping into the portal with bags of goods, slipping through to Misorn and beyond. And in the fifth city¡ªNorrest, the frontier city closest to the southern marshlands¡ªthings are different, but no less electric. Here, the population is wilder, more rugged. Beasts with coarse fur, swamp-scaled lizardfolk, towering insectoids, and outcast mutants roam the streets. The city''s architecture is rough-hewn and fortified, built for defense against what lurks in the wilds beyond. When the curtain of light fades, even the wind pauses. Then a chittering hiss erupts from a mantis-woman standing near the front. "It worked...!" A deep-voiced ogre near her slams his fists together with a booming laugh. "No more swamp slogging! We''re finally connected!" "WE''RE ON THE MAP, BABY!" a two-headed kobold screeches in perfect unison, tail flicking with glee. The portal pulses once, then stabilizes with a resonant hum. A group of armored beastkin step through from Misorn, blinking against the brightness of Norrest''s crimson sky. The crowd breaks into a roar. "Look at them!" someone yells from the crowd. "They came straight through! That''s real, it''s real!" One of the marsh-born lizardfolk kneels low, clawed fingers splayed on the stone at the gate''s base. "Solid mana foundation. Old magic... real old." His voice is reverent. "This isn''t just technology. This is... history reborn." ----- Far across the sea, the light of the portal dims behind Alix and Thano as they step out onto rough, untouched ground. The air here is heavier, untouched by civilization for centuries¡ªwild and brimming with old mana. "Here we are," Thano mutters, adjusting the satchel on his hip and scanning the terrain. Alix nods, his gaze calm as he surveys the surroundings. The field is flat and surrounded by distant ridges of black-stoned hills. A perfect place to anchor a new gate. Thano wastes no time. With a gesture, he calls over a team of builders and enchanters already waiting on standby¡ªelite specialists that had come through ahead of them. Wooden crates of materials, glowing crystals, and metallic rods are already being unpacked. The Minister claps once, sharp and clear. "Form the base circle! Mages, stabilize the leyline flow. Enchanters, follow me!" Construction begins at a rapid pace. In moments, runes are carved into the soil. Floating anchors rise, humming softly as they align. The very earth starts to pulse with latent energy as the frame for the new portal begins to form¡ªan elegant echo of the others, but raw and incomplete. Alix watches in silence, hands behind his back. But then¡ª Flicker. A crimson glow pulses softly from a metal token hooked to Alix''s waist. Another pulse. Then a third, faster and insistent. Thano wipes sweat from his brow, a long iron beam hovering in place beside him, suspended by mana threads. Sparks flicker from a nearby forge, casting a glow on the half-finished structure towering behind him. Alix approaches, his steps firm. "I''ll be heading out for a bit." Thano glances over his shoulder, eyes squinting against the firelight. "Alright. After you come back, everything will be done and ready, Your Majesty." Alix gives a small nod. "Good." --- Back at the base, the air is cooler, quieter. The moon hangs high above the darkstone walls as Alix steps through the arrival gate. Gander follows close behind. Lathar is at his desk, scrawling something across a stack of reports when the shimmer of the gate catches his eye. He looks up, surprise flickering across his face. "Oh, you''re back already?" he asks, standing. "Where''s that person you were with?" Alix adjusts his cloak, voice steady. "They called another meeting. As for him¡ªhe already left, he will be back." Lathar raises an eyebrow. "Another meeting, huh? Must be something serious, then." "It is," Alix replies. "That''s why we need to go." Lathar doesn''t miss a beat. He grabs his coat from the nearby stand. "Then I''m coming with you." Alix gives him a brief nod, then gestures toward the inner teleportation hall. "Let''s move." They step through the portal, the runes flaring around them. A heartbeat later, the two appear in the central building, already humming with activity. Officers and aides move quickly through the halls, papers and crystal tablets in hand. No time is wasted. They walk with purpose, their boots echoing sharply against the polished obsidian floor. Guards stand at attention as they pass, some saluting, others quickly stepping aside. Chapter 185 187: Astram Arrive At Valgros Kingdom They reach the doors of the meeting chamber. Inside, almost every seat is already filled. The circular obsidian table gleams beneath the hovering light orbs, and tension buzzes faintly in the air¡ªunspoken, but ever-present. As soon as Alix steps in, a few heads turn. Lathar follows closely behind, his posture relaxed but alert. Brakar, who''s already lounging near the edge of the room with one foot propped up against the wall, spots Lathar and grins wide. "Look who decided to show up," he calls out, loud enough for the entire chamber to hear. "Didn''t expect you to crawl back so soon after getting flattened, Lathar." Lathar snorts. "Flattened? Please. We both know I''d leave you eating dirt in a real duel." Brakar gives a sharp bark of laughter. "You still dreaming about that one spar where you almost landed a hit? Damn, you''re persistent." "Persistent enough to keep on winning in every duel we have." Lathar shoots back smoothly as he moves toward the table. "Unlike you, who probably fought his way into command by headbutting a wall until someone got bored." That earns a few quiet laughs from the nearby commanders, though no one interrupts the back-and-forth. Brakar raises both hands mockingly. "Fair. Walls don''t talk back." Lathar slides into his seat without missing a beat. "Neither do you, once your jaw''s broken." Brakar laughs again, louder this time, clearly enjoying the exchange. "One of these days, old man. One of these days." Alix says nothing through it all. He walks to his assigned seat with calm composure, drawing more than a few glances¡ªbut no open commentary this time. He''s already left an impression. Moments later, a shift passes through the room again¡ªsubtle, but noticeable. A ripple in the air. Mana coils tightly, reverently. The doors open again. Veyrith enters, his towering presence casting long shadows across the polished floor. Behind him, her stride fluid and silent, comes Svira. She is not like the others. Her form is sleek, serpentine in movement, with chitin armor laced in silver patterns that shimmer faintly as she walks. Her pale skin contrasts against the deep black of her monstrous limbs¡ªthree fingers each, ending in claws that click softly with every step. A long, bladed tail coils gently behind her, curling and uncurling with a patient rhythm. As the two approach, the room falls completely silent. Veyrith stops at the head of the table, resting both hands on the dark surface. His gaze sweeps across the gathered commanders, assessing, weighing. When he speaks, his voice is low but carries an edge that cuts through the silence. "This time, I bring bad news." No one speaks. Even Brakar straightens, the amusement gone from his face. Veyrith''s gaze darkens. "General Medoran¡ªthe one I chose to send to that continent¡ªis dead." A wave of shock slams through the chamber. The silence that follows is thick, suffocating. Lathar leans forward slightly, stunned. "Dead? Sir Medoran is dead?" Someone exhales sharply across the room. A younger commander mutters under his breath, "That''s not possible... he''s Tier 6." Svira steps forward, her voice crisp, controlled. "I confirmed it myself. We lost all contact." Brakar''s brows furrow. "What the hell could kill a Tier 6? It''s been centuries." "Five hundred years," Veyrith says grimly. "Since a Tier 6 died in open combat on our soil. We all know what that means. Medoran wasn''t careless. He was experienced, brutal when needed. If something took him down, it wasn''t chance. It was strength." One of the commanders, a veteran with a bronze pauldron shaped like a lion''s maw, speaks up, disbelief etched into every word. "But how? That continent¡ªthe one with the three kingdoms¡ªthey don''t have anyone above Tier 5, right? They''re country bumpkins compared to us." Veyrith''s jaw tightens, his fingers curling slightly against the table. "That''s what we all assumed. Clearly... we were wrong." He pauses, then adds coldly, "After this meeting, I will go to that human king myself. I want answers. Personally." Svira steps up beside him, her voice smooth but laced with steel. "My lord, if I may¡ªAstram is likely already there. His subordinate died too. He won''t ignore this." Veyrith''s brow furrows. "It''s my lapse of judgment. I didn''t think the human king''s enemy would have someone capable of killing a Tier 6. That''s on me." Another commander shakes his head firmly. "With all due respect, my lord, it''s not your fault. Medoran''s death can''t go unanswered. We should avenge him immediately." Veyrith nods once, decisively. "We will. Me and Svira will go there after this meeting." He looks around the room. "I want preparations ready. We will demand that the king opens the Relic." A stir goes through the chamber¡ªwhispers, uncertain glances. The Relic. Everyone knows what it is. Or at least, what it''s supposed to be: a remnant of a Tier 7 powerhouse, buried beneath the ruins on that continent. Untouched. Sealed. Dangerous. Alix, meanwhile, sits quietly, his expression unreadable. But inside, his thoughts are sharp. ''So that''s what he wants, not justice, not vengeance. But the Relic.'' He leans back slightly, eyes half-lidded. ''Medoran dies, and all he sees is opportunity. Typical.'' Shortly after, the meeting comes to an end. The commanders begin to file out, their voices low, grim with tension. Alix rises from his seat and makes his way toward Lathar, who''s lingering near one of the pillars, arms crossed, eyes distant. Alix stops beside him and speaks quietly, but firmly. "Lathar. I need you to gather our people. Only Tier 4 combatants. No one lower." Lathar''s brow rises. "Just Tier 4s?" "Yes," Alix says. "No one else. Keep it small. I have something I need to take care of¡ªalone." Lathar exhales through his nose, but doesn''t argue. Not this time. "So you''re heading off again," he says, not bothering to mask the resignation in his tone. --- In the capital city of the Valgros Kingdom, storm clouds roll silently above the towering spires. The sun filters weakly through them, casting pale light across the upper courtyard where the portal stands¡ªpulsing faintly with unstable mana. King Rewalt stands at its edge, hands clasped behind his back, his crown resting heavy on his brow. Beside him, Prince Asdri gazes at the shimmering gateway with a tension that tightens his jaw. "I never thought..." Rewalt murmurs, eyes locked on the arcane frame, "...that our enemy would be capable of killing two Tier 6 monsters." Asdri glances at his father, brows furrowed. "Father... are you sure our enemy, is even native to this continent?" Rewalt doesn''t answer immediately. His gaze lingers on the portal a moment longer before he sighs. "That," he says quietly, "I don''t know anymore." Then Rewalt adds, his voice hardening, "But we''ve got a new problem." Asdri turns to him fully. "The leaders of the monsters?" Rewalt nods grimly. "The lord of Gresvin called Astram. From what I''ve gathered, he''s the current ruler of their continent. And the other one Veyrith¡ªthe one who sent Medoran¡ªhe''s the leader of a rebel faction trying to overthrow Astram''s tyranny." "And both are very powerful Tier 6," Asdri says, more a statement than a question. Asdri''s hand tightens around the hilt of his sword. "If that monster Astram gets here first..." Rewalt cuts in sharply, "We pray he doesn''t." Silence falls between them again, the hum of the portal the only sound. "We need to speak to Veyrith," Rewalt says at last. "If there''s a side to choose in their war, we choose the one less likely to burn our world." Asdri nods. "Then let''s just hope Veyrith gets here before Astram does.". Shortly after, the portal hums¡ªits shimmer growing brighter, warping the air around it with arcs of unstable mana. A low pressure rolls out from its center like the calm before a storm. Three figures emerge from the light. The first steps forward with regal, unshakable poise¡ªAstram. His blue eyes sweep the courtyard with quiet menace. Broad-shouldered, draped in robes of dark silver etched with crimson veins of mana, he exudes not just power, but the sense that power itself bends around him. Flanking him are his two subordinates. Carwel and Tandu, are now fully healed. Rewalt straightens the moment they arrive. His voice is steady, even courteous¡ªbut clipped at the edges. "Welcome, Lord Astram." Astram''s eyes land on Rewalt, unblinking. "King Rewalt," he replies, his tone eerily calm. "We see each other again. I assume you already know why I''m here." Asdri stands still beside his father, but inside, his heart races. He''s seen his fair share of Tier 6s on the main continent¡ªsome arrogant, some noble, some cruel. But this... this is something else. Astram doesn''t feel like a Tier 6. He feels like a calamity disguised in flesh. His aura presses down like a mountain, heavy and deliberate. The lesser Tier 6s he''s met couldn''t compare. ''This man... no¡ªthis monster,'' Asdri thinks, ''has to be at least level 680... maybe even 690.'' Even among the central powers, someone like Astram wouldn''t be obscure. He wouldn''t be just an another Tier 6. He would be a name people whisper about before wars are decided. Astram speaks again, his gaze never leaving Rewalt. "I lost one of my own. And not just anyone. Gresvin, a loyal servant who''s followed me since the Unification Wars." Rewalt''s shoulders tighten, but he doesn''t lower his head. "It''s my fault," he says at last, voice quiet but clear. "Who would''ve thought... that my enemy was this strong?" Astram watches him in silence for a moment, then steps forward¡ªonly a single step, but it feels like the entire courtyard shrinks around him. Rewalt continues, trying to keep his composure. "I''m also at a loss. If they are this powerful... why haven''t they already wiped us out in one clean strike?" Chapter 186 - 188: A Crypt Of A Tier 7 Powerhouse? Astram''s expression doesn''t change. His voice, when it comes, is like stone dragged across glass¡ªcold, smooth, and final. "I don''t care about that." The words cut the air in half. "I don''t care why they haven''t crushed you yet. What I care about," Astram says, his gaze narrowing, "is how you intend to compensate me. Because if you don''t..." He pauses. The weight of his presence increases, not by a flare of power, not by any show of force¡ªjust by sheer existence. "...then I will destroy your kingdom before your enemy even has the chance." He says it so simply, as if discussing the weather. Asdri can''t breathe. Astram hasn''t released his aura, hasn''t summoned a single spark of mana. And yet, Asdri feels like his soul is being flayed open. His vision flickers. For a split second, he sees his own death. Then another. And another. He gasps¡ªchoking down air like he''s resurfaced from drowning. ''What... what was that...?'' No aura. No spell. No pressure. And yet, it felt like dying. Again and again. Rewalt moves quickly, stepping between Astram and his son with an item shining in his hand, shielding him with his body. Astram tilts his head, just slightly. His expression remains unchanged, but the silence that follows is suffocating. Rewalt clenches his jaw, forcing the words out. "I will open the Relic." The moment he says it, the air shifts. "That should be enough," Rewalt continues, each syllable dragging like stone. "To compensate you... and Veyrith." Astram''s eyes narrow, a flicker of something¡ªinterest, perhaps¡ªdancing behind them. Then he turns, as if the matter is already settled. "Good," he says. "Then I''ll return tomorrow." He takes a step toward the portal¡ªwhen suddenly, it roars to life again. Mana flares violently, the runes carved around the arch pulsing in wild succession. The air thickens. Static hums across the stone floor. And then¡ª Another flash of light. Two figures emerge from the vortex. The first is tall, imposing, wreathed in a cloak of matte-black fur and iron-gray armor that hums with restrained power¡ªVeyrith. Beside him glides a form far more fluid¡ªSvira, her tail curling slowly behind her as she steps through the portal like a blade drawn from its sheath. Rewalt''s blood runs cold. Asdri stiffens, eyes darting from one to the other. The two monsters are here. Together. Astram turns slowly, his robe whispering against the marble as he faces the new arrivals. There''s no greeting. No acknowledgement. Only raw, frigid stillness. Veyrith steps forward, his tone hard as steel. "So. You arrived first." Astram''s lips curl into a faint smile. Not warm¡ªnever warm. Just that sharp, cold curve that always dances on the edge of mockery. "It''s been a long time, Veyrith," he says, voice smooth but heavy with memory. "The last time we fought, neither of us walked away with the upper hand." His eyes flash with something darker¡ªhunger, challenge. "But after exploring it... things might be different." Veyrith lets out a low laugh. Not forced. Not loud. Just enough to cut through the air like a crack in ice. "You''re acting like the treasure is already in your hands," he says coolly, folding his arms. "But you''re not the only one with ambition, Astram." Astram''s smirk deepens, but he doesn''t rise to the bait. Instead, he turns his back without a word, walking toward the portal once more. Svira eyes him carefully, but says nothing. Veyrith doesn''t stop him either. The moment Astram vanishes into the portal''s light, the atmosphere shifts¡ªless tense, but no less dangerous. King Rewalt takes a breath, finally speaking again. "Lord Veyrith," he begins carefully, "I''m... sorry for your loss. Medoran was¡ª" But Veyrith cuts him off with a simple raise of his hand. "I did not come for apologies, human king," he says. "I came to confirm it myself." His voice, while far calmer than Astram''s, still holds weight¡ªcontrolled, but undeniably powerful. Veyrith said,"I did not expect my subordinate to fall. At least not on this continent." Rewalt glances toward Asdri, then back to Veyrith. "We didn''t expect it either. Which is why... I''ve decided. The thing I promised will be opened. Tomorrow." That gets Svira''s attention. Her eyes narrow, and sharp. Veyrith studies the king for a long moment. Then he nods once. "Good." Without another word, he turns. No threats. No demands. Just silence and the cold weight of restrained violence. Svira follows, her gaze briefly flicking over Asdri¡ªjust enough to make the prince stiffen again. Then the two of them vanish back through the portal. As soon as the portal dims and the oppressive presence of the two monsters fades, both Rewalt and Asdri let out a long, heavy breath. They''re still standing. Asdri wipes the sweat from his brow, even though the air isn''t hot. His hands are trembling, and his mouth is dry. "We survived," he mutters, almost in disbelief. "Gods... we actually survived that." Rewalt doesn''t speak right away. He just looks at the now-quiet portal, his face carved from stone. But when he finally turns to his son, there''s a tightness in his jaw, a weight that hasn''t lifted. Asdri looks over at him, eyes still wide. "Father... I knew the Relic was important, but... I didn''t know it was this important. What even is it?" Rewalt''s gaze grows distant. He lowers his voice, as if the truth itself is too old to be spoken loudly. "Son," he says, "even I don''t know everything about it. What little I do know... came from your grandfather." He turns, slowly walking toward the edge of the courtyard. Asdri follows. Rewalt continues, voice low and grim. "It''s not a Relic but a Crypt, and it''s older than our kingdom. Older than our line. Long ago, before the Valgros Kingdom existed, our clan weren''t rulers. We were guardians. Keepers of something buried. Something ancient." Asdri''s brow furrows. "Guardians?" Rewalt nods. "Yes. But then one of our ancestors decided to build a kingdom on top of it. Maybe out of ambition. Maybe to keep others from finding it. Who knows? All that knowledge is fragmented now¡ªlost to time." He pauses. "The last king said... it might be the remains of a Tier 7. A true powerhouse. One who stood at the peak of this world before even the central powers rose." Asdri stops walking. His heart slams against his ribs. "A Tier... 7?" he echoes, barely able to breathe the words. He''s traveled the main continent. He''s seen legends in motion¡ªTier 5s who bend fire like silk, Tier 6s who walk like kings among men. But a Tier 7? He feels a chill snake down his spine. "If the central continent finds out," he says slowly, eyes wide, "about what we''re sitting on... there''ll be no stopping them." Rewalt looks grim. "They won''t just come for it. They''ll come for us. For every last piece of history, of blood." Asdri turns toward the still-glowing runes. ---- The next day arrives like a thundercloud holding back its storm. In Ember Claw''s main base buzzes with quiet tension. Soldiers move with sharp discipline, voices clipped, eyes scanning every shadow. The scent of metal, leather, and mana hangs heavy in the air. Alix stands near the central platform, arms crossed behind his back, his gaze calm but razor-sharp. Beside him are the three Tier 5 monsters who had once fought him in the woods¡ªnow bound by loyalty or something close enough. Behind them, another fifteen Tier 4 monsters form ranks, each one carrying the weight of their power like coiled steel. Lathar stands nearby, giving last-minute checks to their formation. "They''re ready," he says simply, glancing at Alix. The other thirteen commanders have also arrived, each flanked by their own elite units. Some have brought knights wreathed in elemental auras. Others are accompanied by beastkin or sorcerers cloaked in tiered artifacts. Every faction has sent their best. The tension in the air is thick enough to cut. Alix stands unmoving at the center, his presence steady amid the quiet murmurs of the commanders and the shifting restlessness of the monsters behind him. His eyes scan the horizon¡ªthough calm on the surface, there''s an edge to him now. A readiness. Yet none of them speak the obvious. They are waiting. Waiting for him. For Veyrith. And when the first tremor rolls through the floor¡ªsubtle, like the heartbeat of the earth itself¡ªeveryone turns as one. The portal at the far end of the base hums to life. Not violently. Not with drama. But with a deep, cold pulse that settles into their bones. Then, without sound, Veyrith steps through. Behind him walks Svira, eyes gleaming like a serpent''s, her tail flicking once before settling still. But her presence barely registers compared to the one at her front. As Veyrith steps fully into the light, the entire assembly reacts. The thirteen commanders'' units drop to one knee. The commanders and Lathar lower themselves slightly, a fist over their hearts. Alix follows suit. Veyrith acknowledges the gesture with a slight tilt of his head¡ªno pride, no arrogance. Just silent authority. Svira remains quiet beside him, gaze drifting over the assembled forces like a blade searching for a weakness. Then Veyrith speaks, his voice cutting clean through the heavy silence. "I won''t waste any more time." The words fall like a gavel. Final. Unyielding. "The exploration," he continues, stepping forward so that the gathered commanders and elites can hear clearly, "as you all already know, will fall to you." His eyes sweep across the assembled warriors¡ªTier 4s, Tier 5s. Each one stands a little straighter beneath that gaze. "Tier 6s like me can''t go in. The seals won''t allow it." His voice lowers slightly, becoming more grave. "So it''s up to you." No rousing speech. No promises. Just the stark truth. "Do your best. And don''t let Astram win this war." Chapter 187 - 189: Entering The Crypt There''s a beat of silence after Veyrith''s words¡ªlong enough for the weight of them to settle. Then Brakar steps forward. His eyes burn with resolve as he raises his voice so it carries across the entire formation. "We will not fail." The commanders straighten. The monsters behind him let out low, rising growls¡ªbarely restrained energy trembling just under the surface. One of the captains, a flame-crowned beastkin, roars, "We''ll carve our way through whatever waits inside!" A knight slams a gauntlet to his chest. "For the future of this land!" "For the fallen!" someone else shouts. "For vengeance!" Then, in perfect unison, every voice rises like thunder crashing across the mountains: "We will win, and free this land from Astram''s tyranny!" The ground itself seems to respond, mana pulsing beneath their feet. The portal surges behind Veyrith, its light deepening to a storm-lit glow¡ªlike it, too, recognizes the weight of what''s coming. Veyrith gives a single, sharp nod. "Then, let''s go." The moment Veyrith steps into the portal, the tension doesn''t lessen¡ªit shifts. Like coals pressed tighter under weight, not cooled. Svira follows silently behind him, her tail trailing a serpentine path across the stone floor. And then, the rest begin to move. One by one, the commanders signal their squads. Alix turns, locking eyes with Lathar, who gives a crisp nod. No words are needed. Then¡ª Light. The portal flares, swallowing the vanguard whole. And when the world reforms¡ª They stand in silence, on the other side. The air here is different. Heavier. Stale with age and something else¡ªsomething buried. The floor beneath their boots is smooth obsidian. The chamber is vast, circular, and cold. But what truly halts them¡ª ¡ªare the ones waiting. Across the chamber, just beyond the far curve of the ancient hall, Astram''s forces are already assembled. Tier 4 and five elites in jagged armor. Spellcasters swathed in blood-red runes. Beastkin with gleaming, unnatural eyes. And at the front stands Astram, unmoving, his presence like a knife slid between the ribs of the world. Tension erupts instantly¡ªlike two clouds of toxic gas meeting in the air, their fumes ready to ignite at the faintest spark. The two armies don''t charge. Not yet. But it wouldn''t take much. One step. One breath. One insult. Rewalt steps through the final archway from the hidden portal chamber, flanked tightly by Asdri and two royal guards. The moment he sees both forces¡ªAstram''s and Veyrith''s¡ªfacing each other in that vast chamber, something cold twists in his gut. Gods... they look like they''re seconds away from killing each other. Asdri leans in quietly, voice low. "Father... they are hungry for each other''s throats." King Rewalt watches from the edge of the chamber, his breath shallow, chest tight. Asdri stands close behind him, his fingers flexing near the hilt of his blade even though he knows, he can''t do anything if a battle erupts. The two armies stare each other down, silent as death. Rewalt swallows hard. Every instinct screams that this was a mistake. That asking for help from two, Veyrith and Astram, was a gamble no sane ruler should''ve made. And now they''re here. In his kingdom. In his crypt. He feels it. The raw power. The hunger for battle humming beneath the skin of these monsters, like wolves in a pen made of paper. Astram''s forces stand like a tide waiting to crash. Veyrith''s side, steady as carved stone, no less lethal. One provocation¡ªone step too close¡ªand the entire capital city could become a graveyard. Rewalt finally breaks the silence. "Follow me," he says, low but firm. Both armies remain still, but two figures move¡ªone from each side. Astram lifts a hand without looking, and the closest of his elite nods, signaling his troops to follow but not engage. Veyrith mirrors the action, his expression unreadable as he steps forward alongside Rewalt. Asdri follows behind, tension still clinging to his bones. They walk slowly¡ªRewalt leading them past rune-etched pillars and ancient, crumbling statues, deeper into the crypt. The air grows colder, denser. Power, ancient and unmoving, coils through the stone like vines in a long-dead garden. Neither Astram nor Veyrith speak as they walk side by side, their silence louder than war drums. Finally, they reach it. A gate¡ªnot made of metal, but a special-white stone. Covered in layered seals and sunken glyphs that pulse faintly with forgotten mana. It radiates pressure. Not aggressive. But watchful. Waiting. Rewalt stops before it. His voice is quiet. "This is it." He reaches into his cloak and pulls out a pendant¡ªcircular, etched with the same glyphs that glow along the gate. With a whisper of a word, the pendant rises in his palm, floating into the air. The glyphs respond. A hum fills the crypt, low and bone-deep. Then the gate begins to shift. The runes shiver. Locking mechanisms older than the kingdom itself begin to turn. And then, a crack splits the air, like the first breath of a tomb that hasn''t opened in centuries. A gust of cold, dry air spills out. Dust swirls. Mana pulses. But beyond the gate... is only darkness. A huge wave of aura sweeps through the group like a tidal force made of pressure and presence. Even Veyrith and Astram¡ªboth brushing the peak of Tier 6¡ªpause, their expressions tightening under the weight of it. Astram breaks the silence with a short, sharp laugh. "There it is. This is no trick... it''s a real tomb. A Tier 7''s resting place." Veyrith''s eyes gleam, but he reins in his excitement with a breath, his voice low and even. "Finally. This... this might be worth it." The others are visibly affected¡ªstiffening, bracing, exchanging uncertain glances. But Alix? He doesn''t flinch. His gaze scans the shifting mana with measured calm. He crosses his arms and exhales through his nose, unimpressed. Alix thought. ''Hm. The aura''s dense, sure... but not overwhelming. If there are Tier 7 artifacts here, they''ll be useful. Nothing more.'' The difference is stark. Rewalt lets the silence stretch for a breath longer, then speaks, his voice firm but weary. "Just like I said¡ªonly those at Tier 5 or below can enter." He continues, "And... once you pass through, you''ll be teleported to a random location inside. No way to predict it. No way to control it." Lathar blinks, then frowns. "Then what''s the point of us gathering like this?" He turns to Alix, brows raised, voice edged with disbelief. "We can''t coordinate. Can''t plan." Astram''s voice cuts in, cool and sharp. "So we can''t enter in squads?" Rewalt shakes his head. "Not unless you''re very lucky. That''s all I know. This tomb hasn''t been opened in my lifetime. Everything I''ve told you comes from the records of the kings before me." There''s a short pause. Then, as if on cue, both Veyrith and Astram turn to their forces at once. "Once you''re inside," Veyrith says, his tone commanding, "locate your comrades immediately. Don''t waste time. Prioritize regrouping." Astram''s gaze sweeps over his people, cold and cutting. "Survive the drop. Then find your own. Avoid fighting until you''re at full strength." Lathar glances at Alix again, quieter this time. "We''ll be scattered." Alix nods once. "That''s fine. Our people are full of elites¡ªthey''ll manage." A moment of tense quiet settles once more. The kind that comes before a storm. Rewalt steps back from the gate, the glyphs still glowing softly behind him. "It''s open," he says simply. Astram turns to his assembled troops with a sharp wave of his hand. "You''re first. Move." No hesitation. His elite step forward in near-perfect synchronization. Blood-red cloaks sweep the floor. Blades, staffs, and beast-forms shift and tense as the first of them approaches the gate. Carwel and Tandu, standing just behind Astram, remain still. Carwel''s voice is quiet, almost regretful. "I would''ve liked to see what''s inside." Then, without another word, the first of Astram''s forces crosses the threshold. The portal flares¡ªlight swallowing them whole¡ªand they vanish into the tomb. Veyrith watches without expression. His arms are folded, his tail still. Svira stands beside him, silent and unmoving, though her eyes track each soldier vanishing into the light. When the last of Astram''s troops disappear, Veyrith finally speaks, his voice low. "Let them go first. Doesn''t matter." He glances toward his own commanders. "Our time''s the same once we''re inside." He turns, nodding once. A subtle command. Veyrith''s force begins to move. They move like a storm of different shapes¡ªmonsters and warriors and beings of strange anatomy¡ªbut all with the same deadly focus. The portal devours them one by one. Soon, only one group remains. Alix and his people. Lathar exhales slowly. "Guess it''s our turn." Alix glances around at his squad crouched like a coiled blade. "Remember," Alix says, "this isn''t a war zone. Not yet. Find each other. Don''t waste energy fighting every enemy you see." Lathar nods, expression grim but ready. The others murmur quiet affirmations. No fear. Just anticipation. Then Alix steps forward. He doesn''t look back. The moment his foot crosses the threshold, the portal pulses¡ªlight bends, warps¡ª ¡ªthen everything is gone. A rush of cold. A strange pressure pulling in all directions. Then silence. When Alix opens his eyes, he''s somewhere else. He stands alone on a broad, cracked stone plain. The sky above is murky¡ªdeep gray and faintly shimmering, like fog over polished glass. Far above, there''s a ceiling¡ªmiles up, maybe more¡ªbut still visible. It curves like a dome, faintly lit by unknown sources. "Huh..." He turns slowly in place. The landscape stretches outward, impossibly vast. Strange structures dot the horizon¡ªsome broken, some half-buried. There''s grass in patches, but it''s dark and fibrous, like it grew in shadow. Obsidian pillars rise from the ground in crooked patterns, humming faintly with power. "Feels more like a sealed world than a tomb," Alix mutters to himself. He narrows his eyes, testing the flow of mana. Then he tried to fly. Chapter 188 - 190: Found A Tomb Instead of soaring upward, his boots barely clear the ground. The air feels thick¡ªlike flying through syrup¡ªand gravity yanks him back down. He lands with a sharp thud. "Tch." He flexes his legs, adjusting. "Restrictions." He extends his senses. It''s subtle, but he can feel it¡ªa thin net of spatial suppression layered across the air. Designed to keep them grounded. To keep them vulnerable. Alix places two fingers in the air. A shimmer of transparent blue panel emerges¡ªhis inventory appears, displaying all his items. He could tear the restriction apart in seconds. But he doesn''t. "No need," he murmurs, letting his hand fall. Instead, he exhales, closing his eyes for a moment. The air smells faintly of dust, old stone, and mana. Not hostile. Not yet. He opens them again and begins walking. Alix walks in silence, boots tapping softly against the cracked stone. Each step echoes faintly in the open space, swallowed quickly by the vastness around him. He keeps his senses sharp, scanning the surroundings as he moves. The place is unnaturally large¡ªfar too large. "This place is huge... Ridiculously huge," he mutters under his breath. "No Tier 7 could''ve built this alone. Not even with a century of effort." There''s no wind. No sound but his own movements. Even mana flows in strange patterns here, sluggish but dense¡ªlike it''s resisting him, coiled tight into the bones of the land. Alix narrows his eyes. "It feels... artificial. But alive." He pauses, turning slightly. Something flickers at the edge of his vision. Far ahead, between two crooked obsidian pillars, a shape moves¡ªslow, deliberate. Alix crouches slightly, his eyes narrowing. The shape resolves into something humanoid but off¡ªits posture rigid, movements too smooth. Then it steps into clearer view. It''s a monster. Humanoid in form, covered in dark crimson armor etched with sharp runes. Its eyes glow a faint, eerie green. No emotion. No breath. Alix tilts his head slightly. "An ordinary soldier from Astram''s side?" The soldier stops again, scanning the area. Alix doesn''t rush. He watches, quietly weighing the situation. Then, with a thought, he activates a skill. "Shadow Veil." The air ripples around him, and Alix''s form fades¡ªhis presence vanishing completely. No sound, no scent, no energy signature. Even mana has trouble recognizing him now. The soldier doesn''t notice. Instead, it reaches into a compartment on its hip and retrieves a small, oval-shaped item¡ªa dull metallic stone with runes pulsing faintly along its surface. Then the item trembles. A moment later, it floats up from the soldier''s hand and begins to drift slowly toward the east, pulsing with brighter light. The soldier watches it for a second, then begins to follow. Alix raises an eyebrow. "A locator? That''s... clever." He steps into motion, completely silent beneath the effects of Shadow Veil, trailing the soldier from a safe distance. "They came ready. That must be a directional marker to help their squads regroup." His eyes follow the device with interest. "Which means wherever it''s going... there''ll be more of them." His lips curl into a slight grin. "Good. Let''s tail this guy. See where it leads." He moves effortlessly through the uneven terrain, never disturbing a single pebble. The soldier never looks back. The path ahead begins to shift¡ªlarger structures loom in the mist, old and half-submerged. Alix narrows his eyes, senses stretching forward as the pulse of the locator speeds up slightly, its runes now blinking rapidly. "Something''s close." Suddenly, the quiet is shattered. From the foggy distance, rapid footsteps pound against the stone. Another figure in the same dark crimson armor bursts into view¡ªrunning full sprint, armor scratched, movements frantic. "Run!" the second soldier shouts, his voice hoarse and raw. "They''re coming! Beasts¡ªdozens of them!" The first soldier stiffens, turning sharply. "What?!" "I said run! They''re¡ª" The second soldier skids to a stop beside him, panting. "They''re tracking my mana¡ªthey''re smart!" The locator stone pulses faster. A guttural snarl rolls through the air. Then another. And another. Alix halts, shadows begin to shift in the mists beyond¡ªlow forms, crawling, slinking, stalking. The first soldier curses, stepping back. "You idiot! You brought them to me?!" "What the hell was I supposed to do, die alone?" the second snaps, drawing a short-bladed weapon. "Shut up and help me fight!" They both tense, weapons raised. But it''s too late. Figures emerge from every angle¡ªsleek beasts with elongated limbs and bone-like protrusions along their backs and jaws. Pale skin slick with moisture. Eyes that glow faintly violet. One of them snarls, saliva dripping from jagged teeth. Then another growls behind the soldiers¡ªcloser than expected. The two warriors go back-to-back instinctively, breathing heavy. "They''re circling us..." the second mutters. "No gaps... They''re coordinating," the first growls. "This isn''t some wild pack." Dozens of the creatures close in¡ªTier 4, like the soldiers. Equal in strength. But numbers? Unfairly tilted. The beasts don''t wait for a signal. They pounce. The clash is brutal and fast. Steel meets claw, parries crash against snapping jaws, and blood sprays across stone. The soldiers fight well¡ªdisciplined, experienced. For a moment, it looks like they might hold. But they don''t. There are simply too many. One soldier is taken from the side¡ªdragged down by three beasts tearing at his armor, biting through the gaps with coordinated viciousness. He screams once. The other soldier roars, trying to reach him, but a leaping beast tackles him mid-stride. He goes down, blade slipping from his grip. Fangs sink into his throat before he can scream. The air goes still again. The growls fade, one by one. The beasts drag the corpses into the mist¡ªlimbs trailing, armor scraping against stone. Then they vanish, slipping back into the fog like ghosts. Only blood remains. Alix stands still, watching. No reaction. No movement. Just quiet eyes following the last sliver of motion until even the dragging fades. "Quite efficient," he mutters. He steps forward, Shadow Veil still active, soundless. The locator stone lies on the ground¡ªits light dim now, runes flickering erratically. Alix crouches, picking it up between two fingers. The surface is warm. He studies the pulsing runes, turning the stone over in his hand. "Let''s see if I can use this thing." With a flick of his finger, he channels a sliver of mana into it. The stone vibrates faintly¡ªthen a translucent screen blinks to life in front of him, floating just above the stone''s surface. [Access Denied: This item is restricted to authorized personnel of the Astram Dominion. Unauthorized use will trigger a failsafe.] Alix blinks once. Then sighs. "Well, that''s annoying." He straightens, raising his hand lazily to the air. His inventory window flickers open¡ªa faint grid of glowing icons arranged across a translucent panel. "Let''s see... where did I put you..." he mutters, scrolling through rows of categorized tools and consumables. "Ah¡ªthere." He taps a small, star-shaped item nestled between a handful of utility scrolls and a half-spent crystal. A tiny, metallic gear-like trinket with blue threads pulsing along its edge. [Item: Restriction Nullifier (Tier 2) Removes class, bloodline, and allegiance locks from Tier 1¨C2 items.] "Perfect." He selects it. The item appears in his hand instantly¡ªcold and humming with soft mana. Alix holds both the locator and the nullifier side by side, then presses them together. The nullifier dissolves into threads of light that spiral around the locator stone, seeping into its runes. A faint click echoes through the air. Then silence. The screen vanishes. The locator''s glow steadies. Alix raises an eyebrow, smirking. "Well, that was easy." He tosses the now-unlocked locator gently in the air and catches it. "Let''s see what you were really pointing at." He channels mana into it again. This time, the stone responds instantly. A narrow beam of light bursts from its core¡ªpointing straight into the distance, toward the northeast. Alix follows the stone through the mist-cloaked ruins. The locator hums faintly, its light unwavering now¡ªsharp and steady like an arrow locked on its target. Minutes pass. Then, he sees them. Figures in the distance¡ªdozens, armored and armed. Crimson-etched armor glinting faintly beneath the strange light. They stand in a loose formation before a large, ancient structure half-swallowed by the earth. A building... no, a tomb. Massive stone doors sealed shut, decorated in weather-worn reliefs of battles long past. The air around it pulses subtly with pressure¡ªold magic, dormant but dangerous. He shifts his focus toward the front of the group. One figure stands apart. Taller, broader¡ªhis aura alone thick enough to make the air buzz. Even from this distance, Alix can feel it pressing outward. "Level 578..." he murmurs. "Tier 5. That must be the commander." He exhales quietly. ''If I use a Tier 5 skill, he''ll sense it instantly...'' Instead, Alix flicks two fingers upward. The inventory reappears in the air. He scrolls with a thought, eyes flicking through rows until he finds what he''s looking for¡ªa soft gray veil-shaped charm, its surface marked with a spiral sigil. [Item: Ghostveil Shard] Grants true invisibility to all senses for three hours. No aura, no sound. Even Tier 6 perception won''t pierce it¡ªunless they''re actively looking. He taps it. The item vanishes in a glimmer of blue light¡ªand so does he. Alix looks down at himself. Nothing. No shadow, no scent, no pressure. "Let''s get closer." He moves forward in complete silence, stepping from stone to stone with eerie grace. No wind stirs. The soldiers ahead remain unaware, their weapons idle but ready, eyes scanning the fog. One soldier kneels beside the tomb''s entrance, running a scanner over the seals. Another paces near the side, speaking into a silent comm-link. Alix creeps closer. The commander stands with arms crossed, helmet retracted to reveal a sharp, angular face marked by old scars. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes never stop moving¡ªsweeping across the horizon, wary. Chapter 189 - 191:A Coffin Inside The commander scowls, impatience edging his voice. "You still can''t open that thing? You''ve been at it for thirty minutes now," he says, glaring at the mage crouched by the tomb''s seal. "Are you sure you can even open it?" The mage flinches slightly but doesn''t stop working. His hands continue moving¡ªetching glowing lines along the carved runes with practiced precision. "I''m sorry, sir," the mage says quickly, voice tight with pressure. "I''m close. Just... a bit more." Alix watches from less than five meters away, perfectly invisible, not even the commander''s sharp eyes catching a flicker of his presence. ''Careful,'' Alix thinks, silent amusement touching his lips. ''You''re sweating mana.'' The seal begins to pulse. A low tremor hums through the ground, faint but growing stronger. Then¡ª Thunk. With a deep groan, the massive stone doors shudder and part down the middle, ancient gears grinding as they pull open just enough to reveal a narrow stairway plunging into darkness. The soldiers tense. Weapons rise. The commander raises a hand¡ªsilent signal. "Form up," he orders quietly. "Two lines. Shields front. Mage support behind." Alix drifts in with them as they move. The soldiers enter cautiously, boots echoing on the stairs. None of them feel the slight ripple in the air as he passes through¡ªsilent as shadow. They descend slowly. The stairway goes deep¡ªfar deeper than expected. The air grows colder, denser. Magic coils through the stone like veins¡ªold, heavy, dormant. Then the stairs end. They step into a vast underground chamber. The air shifts. It''s cold, unnaturally so. The walls are smooth black stone, etched with faded sigils that faintly glow as the soldiers pass. The ceiling arches high above, and at the center of it all... A clearing. Perfectly circular. Unblemished. And in the middle of that clearing lies a single, massive coffin, obsidian and gold, embedded into the floor like it was grown there rather than placed. Dust doesn''t touch it. The air around it feels thick, like it''s pressing against time itself. Next to the coffin are items arranged in a ceremonial pattern. Artifacts, weapons, jewels, tomes... each one humming faintly with power. Their colors shimmer under the dim magical glow of the chamber''s sconces. The soldiers'' breath catches. "By the heavens..." one whispers. "Is that... a Tier 4 sword? There are so many of them!" The mage steps forward, his eyes wide. "That staff... it''s still charged. And that ring¡ªlook at the enchantment lines. That''s ancient craftsmanship." Their gazes lock onto the treasures like moths to flame. Greed begins to bloom in their eyes¡ªsubtle at first, then more visible as they step closer, instinctively reaching for favored pieces. Even the commander''s expression shifts slightly, one brow twitching upward at the sheer rarity displayed. "Do not touch anything until I say so," he warns, his voice like iron. "We don''t know what kind of bindings or wards are still active." The soldiers halt, but reluctantly. Their eyes don''t leave the relics. Alix stands just behind them, unseen, unmoving. To them, it''s a vault of priceless treasures and lost power. To him? Trash. Then he tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing on the coffin. That... is different. A quiet pulse of mana hums from beneath it. Deep. Subtle. Not like the scattered relics tossed around it. This, whatever it is, was built to last. And guarded. Wards wrap around the edges, barely visible unless you know what to look for¡ªwoven like vines, but alive, reacting to presence, breath, movement. The commander gestures with two fingers, sharp and deliberate. "Advance. Form a perimeter around the coffin. Mages¡ªstart analysis on the containment runes. Don''t waste time." The soldiers start moving, splitting off into groups, boots echoing against the cold floor as they spread out. Weapons drawn, eyes flicking between the relics and the coffin. The commander, meanwhile, stays near the rear, arms crossed behind his back. Alix watches him with a faint smirk. ''Of course. Send the grunts ahead, stay behind where it''s safe. Sly bastard.'' Then¡ª Click. A low, mechanical shift echoes through the chamber. Everyone freezes. Then comes the rumble. The stone floor trembles beneath their feet. Dust trickles down from the ceiling. With a loud grind, the wall on the far side of the chamber slides open¡ªancient stone splitting like the lid of a maw. From the shadows beyond, something moves. Heavy. Slow. Massive. Then it steps into the light. A beast, towering and twisted¡ªhorned and plated in chitinous armor the color of dried blood. Its eyes glow a deep, steady crimson. Its breath steams in the cold air. Clawed hands drag along the stone, and its presence crashes through the chamber like a wave. Tier 5. And not just any Tier 5. A peak. Every soldier tenses, magic crackling to life, weapons shifting in sweaty hands. One of them stammers, "W-weapons up! That thing¡ªwhat is that?!" Another backs up a step. "We are gonna die here!" "Shut up!" the commander snaps, stepping forward now, eyes locked on the creature. His aura flares slightly, a burning red that pushes back the cold. "Get a grip, you idiots! It''s just a peak Tier 5. I''m also almost at peak Tier 5. We can kill it." The soldiers still look nervous, but his voice cuts through the panic like steel. "Formations! Shields front! Casters, prep your buffs! Melee, don''t engage until I say!" The soldiers snap to motion, trained reflexes overriding fear. Circles form, runes activate, and mana surges into the air. The beast lowers its head, growling deep¡ªits breath shaking the walls. Alix doesn''t move. He watches from the side, still cloaked in true invisibility, arms casually folded. ''Let''s see if your "almost peak" means anything,'' he thinks, eyes gleaming faintly in the dark. The beast roars. And the real fight begins. The clash is instant and brutal. The beast moves like a storm¡ªtoo fast for its size, smashing into the front lines with terrifying weight. Shields splinter. Screams erupt. Spells lash the air, slamming into its armor, but most fizzle or deflect, scattering against its hide like sparks on stone. Alix watches like watching a movie. Two soldiers are torn apart in seconds¡ªone crushed beneath a clawed foot, the other hurled across the chamber, bones cracking against the wall. The commander shouts orders, blade drawn, golden aura flaring brighter now, illuminating the dark. "Focus fire! Keep formation! Don''t scatter¡ªdamn it!" Three mages try to trap the beast in a slowing hex, their incantations overlapping¡ªbut it breaks the spell with a roar and a stomp, disrupting the circle and incinerating one of them in a burst of raw mana backlash. The gap between them is too wide. Alix can see it¡ªobvious. The commander fights well, better than most. But he''s not at the peak. Not truly. His strikes are sharp but not enough to seriously injured a tier 5 beast. His movements¡ªefficient, but still reactive. And worse, the soldiers can''t keep up. They die fast, one after another. After some time, there are none left. Only the commander remains¡ªarmor dented, one arm hanging useless, blood soaking his left side. He pants heavily, chest heaving with each breath, blade tip trembling as it stays raised. The beast lies dead. Its body slumps to the side, the last of its breath escaping in a long, rattling exhale. But even in death, it looks undefeated. The commander sways, drops to one knee, gritting his teeth as he plants the sword into the ground to stay upright. His aura flickers¡ªbarely holding. Cuts line his face. One eye swollen shut. Then¡ª A soft clap. Slow. Measured. Coming from the shadows behind him. The commander''s head jerks up, wild eyes searching. "Who''s there?!" Alix lets the invisibility drop. He stands just beyond the dying torchlight, arms folded, eyes cool. No blood. No dust. Not even sweat. "Well fought," Alix says, stepping forward, his voice calm and almost bored. "Though... not impressive." The commander''s gaze locks on him, disbelief and fury mixing in his expression. "You... Who are you?" The commander''s eye twitches. Then his gaze drops¡ªlocks onto the badge clipped to Alix''s belt. His face twists into a sneer. "Ember Claw," he spits, half a laugh slipping from his bloodied lips. "Of course. Should''ve known." He coughs hard, blood spattering onto the stone. "And is this how the commanders of Ember Claw operate now? Hiding in the shadows while others die doing your work? What a cowardly move." Alix raises a brow. A faint smirk plays at the corner of his lips. "Cowardly?" he echoes, voice smooth. "Please. Don''t pretend you wouldn''t have done the same if the roles were reversed." He steps closer, slow and deliberate. His boots make no sound on the cold stone. "There''s no such thing as cowardice in war. Only survival. Victory. Efficiency. I don''t see ''honor'' on the battlefield. Just results." The commander grits his teeth, trying to rise, but his knee buckles. His sword clatters to the ground. "Damn you..." he snarls. "You think you''re above us? You think¡ª" Before he finishes, Alix is already there. One fluid motion¡ªsilent, fast. His blade flashes out from under his cloak. A clean, silver arc. No wasted movement. Steel bites through the commander''s neck with a quiet shhhk¡ªtoo fast for pain, too precise for resistance. The man''s words die in his throat. His body drops in a graceless heap, blood spreading quickly over the black stone floor. Alix exhales, as if brushing off dust. "No," he says softly, to no one in particular. "I don''t think I''m above you." He turns, slipping the blade back into its sheath. "I know I am." Chapter 190 - 192: A Strange Monolith Alix exhales slowly and swipes his hand through the air. Shrrrk¡ª A sudden pull surges from his palm. The surrounding items¡ªTier 4 weapons, glowing herbs, arcane tomes¡ªshudder, then whoosh toward him, sucked into his inventory like dust into a vacuum. The magic relics vanish mid-air, no sound, no flare. Gone in a blink. Alix steps forward, unhurried, eyes fixed on the coffin. The obsidian lid is cold beneath his fingertips as he rests his hand on it. The air here hums¡ªlow, steady, a vibration only a few could feel. He pushes. Clunk. The seal breaks with a quiet click. Ancient wards flicker and die like candlelight snuffed out by wind. The coffin opens. Alix leans over¡ªand his eyes gleam. Inside, nestled in velvet folds of faded crimson cloth, lies a body long since turned to ash and dust... but that''s not what catches his attention. His gaze locks onto a herb¡ªcurled, black-veined leaves with shimmering veins of violet. Subtle, almost dormant, but unmistakable to him. He laughs, low and short, more breath than sound. "Well... that''s a surprise." He ignores the tier 5 gear scattered beside the remains. Ancient armor, runed blades, enchanted jewels¡ªall meaningless. But this? He reaches in and plucks the herb gently between two fingers, holding it up to the dim glow of the chamber. "The Whisperroot," he murmurs, a rare flicker of warmth in his voice. "One of the side ingredients..." He closes his hand over it, tucking it safely away. Then, softly, he says to himself, "Now, I just need the two main ones." His smile fades¡ªnot gone, just resting beneath the surface. Alix takes one last glance around the tomb, letting the silence settle. Then, without a word, he turns and strides back toward the entrance. The heavy air doesn''t resist him. The seals that once warded the tomb stay silent now. He steps past them and out into the misty ruins beyond. A faint breeze moves through the crumbled archways. Dust drifts lazily, barely disturbed by his passage. Outside, he stops. Lifts the locator stone again. He channels mana into it again. This time, with intent. The stone''s runes flicker once, twice¡ªthen shift. A new beam ignites, this one sweeping out in a slow arc before locking onto a fresh direction. West-northwest. Faint, but sure. "Another victims..." Alix adjusts his stance and begins walking. Quiet steps on broken stone, mist curling around his boots. Alix follows the locator''s pulsing beam, letting it guide him deeper into the ruins. The fog thickens, curling around ruined spires and broken statues like creeping fingers. The hum of distant mana¡ªactive, sharp, chaotic¡ªgrows louder with each step. Then he hears it. Shouting. Clashing steel. The unmistakable whine of spellfire. Alix crests a shattered ridge, crouching low behind a chunk of broken masonry, and peers down. There they are. Two forces locked in savage battle¡ªa full squad of Ember Claw soldiers hammering against a formation of Astram elites. Crimson armor versus silver and black. The clash is as brutal as it is chaotic. Bolts of lightning arc overhead. Explosions rock the stone. Blood slicks the ground in both colors. And at the center¡ªtwo figures stand out. One is a broad-shouldered Ember Claw commander, his axe humming with fire-etched runes, barking orders and cleaving through Astram troops with raw aggression. The other is the Astram commander, leaner, wrapped in layered robes laced with arcane glyphs. She floats above the ground, her eyes glowing bright blue, casting layered barrier spells while launching counterattacks in sharp, vicious bursts. Alix watches them for a long moment, arms folded. Then he sighs lightly, his voice dry. "Well. That''s convenient." He glances down at the insignia still clipped to his belt¡ªthe Ember Claw mark, half-torn, stained with old blood. "Technically, I''m still one of theirs," he murmurs. "Though not for much longer." His gaze returns to the chaos below. One Ember Claw soldier gets impaled by a pike¡ªanother Astram mage is incinerated by a fire wave from the commander''s axe. He leans back against the stone, resting one elbow lazily. "Let them kill each other," he says quietly. "Why waste energy when the enemies takes itself out?" The battle drags on. Brutal. Sloppy. But inevitable. On the field below, it becomes clearer with every passing minute¡ªthe Astram side holds the advantage. Not just in coordination, but in sheer numbers. They''re at least double the Ember Claw forces, maybe more. The tide shifts fast. Alix watches, unmoving. Astram mages tighten their formations, laying down wards and glyphs in practiced sync. Their frontline closes in like a jaw of iron, shields overlapping, spears stabbing with ruthless timing. Ember Claw soldiers buckle under the pressure¡ªfatigue, wounds, and disarray breaking what little cohesion they had left. The Ember Claw commander roars, fire bursting from his axe, cutting three down in one swing. But it''s not enough. Within minutes, the last of the Ember Claw soldiers fall. The field is quiet now¡ªonly the Astram survivors left, tending wounds, casting barrier reinforcements, dragging the dead away from the path. Alix pushes off the rock he''s been leaning on. "Time to clean up." He walks down the slope, calm, unhurried. Mist swirls around him, hiding his approach until he''s almost within striking distance. The Astram commander is the first to notice. "Who¡ª?" Her words cut off as Alix steps into view, the Ember Claw insignia still faintly visible on his belt. "Ember Claw? There''s still one that survive?" she spits. "Then you can die with the rest of them." Alix stops five steps from her. Doesn''t answer. Instead, he just lifts one hand. Snap. A single, clean motion. And all hell breaks loose. A surge of mana pulses outward¡ªcold, compressed, devastating. A shockwave flattens the nearest soldiers before they can react. One tries to cast a spell, but too slow. He shatters like glass under pressure. The commander screams, rallying her forces. "Kill him¡ª!" But Alix is already moving. A blink. A shimmer. He''s behind them. His blade sings. One Astram elite falls, throat opened in a perfect line. Another drops as a spear of shadow bursts from his chest¡ªsummoned and launched in the same motion. No wasted effort. No hesitation. Alix moves through them like smoke through fire. Untouchable. Unstoppable. The Astram commander manages to hurl a bolt of compressed ice. He raises his palm. The spell stops mid-air. Suspended. Then collapses into a ball the size of a coin. He flicks it back at her. Boom. The explosion throws her into a broken column. She slumps, dazed, blood trailing from her temple. Alix approaches, blade dragging slightly along the ground, leaving a faint glowing line. She coughs and tries to rise. She coughs and tries to rise. "Please... don''t kill me. I''ll do anything." Alix looks down at her. He raises his blade. "Then die." A sharp slash. And silence. Blood pools. Steel cools. Alix turns slowly, surveying the scattered corpses, the smoldering spells, the wreckage. He opens his palm again. Shrrrk¡ª Weapons, relics, enchanted cores¡ªall lift from the dead and streak into his inventory. A clean sweep. Alix exhales softly. Two enemy squads¡ªgone. He lifts the locator stone again. The beam pulses, shifting now¡ªpointing slightly northwest again, deeper into the ruins. Alix doesn''t hesitate. He keeps moving. Step by step, guided by the locator stone, he weaves through the ruins. Every pulse of the stone leads to another group. More Astram squads. More cleanup. Some try to flee. Some try to beg. Most try to fight. None succeed. Alix is quiet through it all. Efficient. Detached. He doesn''t revel in the killing¡ªhe simply does it. Like pruning weeds. The blood on his blade dries before he needs to swing it again. Eventually, he finds an entrance. Since the stone is pointing that way, he heads inside. He emerges from the mist into a wide clearing, the air here unnaturally still. The ground is flattened stone, overgrown in places with moss and cracks¡ªbut in the center stands a monolith. Massive. Black. Towering over everything like a silent judge. Glowing red runes shift across its surface, and near the top¡ªhovering just above the stone¡ªa burning timer counts down. 5:00 Around the monolith, two armies face each other. Ember Claw forces on one side, Astram forces on the other. Neither moving. No blades drawn, no spells cast. Just silence. Suspicion. Tension wound tight as a bowstring. Lathar spots him first. "Alix!" he calls out, relief in his voice as he waves him over. Heads turn. A few of his soldiers murmur, stepping aside as Alix strides past them, calm and unreadable. Lathar meets him halfway, grinning despite the grimness. "Our commander is now here." Alix glances at the line of soldiers at Lathar''s back, then back at Lathar. "Almost half still not here." Lathar''s smile fades a little. He nods. "They probably didn''t make it." Alix''s gaze shifts toward the Astram side. He tilts his head slightly. "Oh. A lot of people still aren''t here on Astram''s side. Even a few commanders are missing." His tone is casual. Almost bored. Lathar side-eyes him. "...Yeah. Looks like it." Lathar sighs, hands on his hips. "Anyway, looks like this is the end point. Everyone''s been trickling in from different entrance." Alix looks up at the structure. The timer ticks down. 4:46 "What''s that countdown for?" he asks. Lathar shakes his head. "No one knows. It started ticking once the first group arrived. No one''s dared touch it. Everyone''s just... waiting. Watching. No one wants to be the idiot who makes the first move." Alix studies the monolith a moment longer. His fingers twitch, almost like he''s tempted to poke it just to see what would happen. Instead, he folds his arms and says flatly, "So we are waiting to see if it''s a prize... or a curse." Lathar nods. "Pretty much." Chapter 191 - 193: Five Stages 4:32 The timer ticks on, glowing a little brighter now with each passing second. The runes ripple faintly across the monolith''s surface¡ªlike it''s waking up. Alix watches it without blinking, arms still folded. Behind him, the air stirs. Boots stomp on stone. Armored figures emerge from the misted pathways like ghosts returning from battle. Some drag wounded behind them. Others limp. Many come alone. Ember Claw reinforcements arrive slowly¡ªbut not proudly. No cheers. No relief. Just silence and tired eyes. Among them, the Ember Claw commanders begin to appear. The tall, broad figure of Commander Brakar steps into the clearing with a small cluster of battered soldiers behind him. His red pauldrons are cracked, one arm wrapped tightly in makeshift bandages. There''s a faint burn scar trailing across one side of his cheek. Lathar notices him first. He straightens, instinctively squaring his shoulders¡ªexpecting some kind of jab. But Brakar just walks past, quiet. He doesn''t even glance in Lathar''s direction. Lathar blinks. "...Okay, now that''s unsettling." Alix doesn''t respond. Another Ember Claw squad enters, followed by two more commanders. They look worse. Blood stains their armor. Their squads are ragged, barely a dozen soldiers each. No more than half their expected numbers. On the other side, Astram commanders begin to arrive as well. Their expressions are the same¡ªworn, grim. Their formations are thin, uneven. Some units are missing entirely. Everyone walks like they''ve been through something that took more than just numbers from them. 3:17 The tension is thick now¡ªalmost physical. The hum of the monolith deepens, pulsing slowly like a heartbeat echoing through stone. Lathar watches Brakar as he stands at the edge of the Ember Claw formation, unmoving, his gaze fixed on the Astram side like he''s staring at a ghost. Lathar steps up beside him, crossing his arms. "...What''s with the long face? Not used to seeing me in one piece?" Brakar doesn''t rise to the bait. Not like he usually does. He exhales slowly through his nose, jaw tight. "You see that bastard over there?" Lathar follows his gaze. Across the field, half-slumped against a support pole, flanked by what''s left of his command squad. His armor is in tatters. One eye swollen shut. He''s barely standing, but the glint in his eye¡ªspiteful, proud¡ªstill burns. Brakar''s voice lowers. "That''s Darse." Lathar narrows his eyes. Recognition flickers. "...You serious?" Brakar gives a stiff nod. "The reason I joined Ember Claw in the first place," he mutters. "He led the raid on Red Vale. Burned the whole damn village to ash. My family was in that village. They all died." Lathar goes quiet. Brakar''s fists clench. "Since we arrived here, I''ve had one goal¡ªto find him, kill him, and make it count." He scoffs bitterly. "I did find him. We tore through his units like fire through straw. But that bastard... he sacrificed his own men. Threw them at us just to cover his escape." His voice cracks with quiet fury. "Took half of my unit with him in the process." Lathar looks at him for a long moment. Then he says, quiet but firm, "Brakar. Don''t start anything. Not now." Brakar grits his teeth, gaze never leaving Darse. "I know," he mutters. "If I start a fight now, a war will erupt in this room." Lathar nods slowly, letting out a breath. "Good. You''re still on your right mind then." Brakar gives a dry grunt. "Barely." They fall silent, the hum of the monolith filling the air around them. Neither man moves. Neither speaks. The countdown glows steadily above, unrelenting. They fall silent, the hum of the monolith filling the air around them. Neither man moves. Neither speaks. The countdown glows steadily above, unrelenting. 2:02 More Ember Claw units trickle in¡ªlimping, bloody, worn thin. Commanders regroup with what''s left of their squads, murmuring quietly, their eyes locked on the monolith and the ticking timer. By the time the countdown hits :30, the Ember Claw side has gathered nearly its full strength. Ten out of thirteen commanders now stand in formation. On the Astram side, the numbers are starkly different. Only ten of their twenty commanders have returned. Their forces are thinner, more ragged. Whole squads are missing. Some groups have no officer among them at all. A tall monster steps forward¡ªTier 5, draped in ornate blue armor and tattered robes, his expression strained and sharp. He looks around slowly, voice low but cutting. "...How did this happen?" he says. "There''s no way. No way only three of their commanders fell... and we lost ten." Another commander nearby scoffs. "They must still be on their way," she says quickly, grasping for logic. "They''ll come. Just... delayed." The Tier 5 man turns toward her, eyes narrowing. "We''re not talking about foot soldiers. These are commanders. You think ten of them all just happened to fall behind?" Before anyone can answer¡ª BOOM. A low, grinding thud echoes across the clearing. Everyone whirls around. The stone entrances that lead into the chamber begin to close. Heavy slabs of dark rock rumble into place, sealing off each pathway with a final, echoing slam. A pale red light pulses across the surface of the monolith. Then, lines of glowing text begin to scroll across the face of the stone in a language everyone can read: [The final phase has begun. All entrants are closed. Anyone still outside this chamber will be terminated.] A hush falls. The Astram commander stares at the message, jaw clenched. "What..." A low hum starts to build. Then the ground shifts. With a deep, grinding roar, five circular platforms rise from the stone floor¡ªmassive rings that spread out across the chamber. Energy pulses around their edges, and within moments, shimmering barriers surge up, forming translucent domes over each arena. Everyone steps back. The monolith pulses again. New text etches itself across the glowing stone surface in sharp, clear lines: [To claim the final prize, all must pass through five stages.] [Stage One: Survival.] [Each arena must be reduced to exactly 100 survivors to advance.] Gasps ripple through the gathered monsters. Lathar mutters, "Wait... What?" Brakar squints at the monolith, as if hoping he misread it. "Each arena has to be reduced to one hundred? There''s five arenas. That''s¡ª" "Two hundred in each," Alix says quietly, his tone neutral. "One thousand of us in total." One of the Astram commanders steps forward, snarling, "That''s not survival¡ªthat''s slaughter. They want us to kill each other." Another voice rises from the Ember Claw ranks, guttural and bitter. "This is nice, I''ve been itching to kill those bastards. I just didn''t encounter those idiots outside." The shields around each arena begin to shimmer, shifting in hue¡ªcolors spiraling slowly like liquid light. Then without warning, pillars rise from the center of each ring and pulse once, casting down rays of energy. One Ember Claw commander roars. "COME ON THEN, ASTRAM SCUM! I''LL RIP TEN OF YOU DOWN WITH ME!" A snarling Astram commander laughs. "Try it! I''ll stack Ember Claw skulls till I build a throne!" The tension snaps like a drawn bowstring. With a flash of light¡ªinstant and blinding¡ªbodies vanish. Alix barely registers the shift before his feet slam down on new ground. The arena. Wide. Enclosed. The dome above hums with energy. Around him¡ªchaos. He hears steel clash against bone, fire igniting, magic screaming. All around, monsters are already tearing into each other. A horned brute crashes into a lean, blade-armed warrior before either can orient. Blood sprays. Screams echo. Lathar lands nearby, rolling to absorb the impact. He rises fast, blades drawn, eyes already scanning. "This is madness." Brakar materializes a few meters away, shield raised, axe in hand. His face is stone. "Here I come, bastard!!!." A hulking Astram commander beast snarls across from them, his eyes locking with Brakar''s. Recognition. Hatred. "You again, you Ember filth?" the beast growls. Brakar steps forward. "This time you won''t be able to get away." Without warning, the Astram commander charges. Brakar meets him head-on with a roar, the impact shaking the ground beneath them. Elsewhere in the arena, Ember Claw and Astram forces collide like crashing tides. Spells arc. Fangs flash. Bodies fall. Alix sidesteps a spear thrust and counters with a precise strike, cutting down a lunging lizard-like warrior. No time to speak. No time to think. Lathar ducks under a blast of ice, slashing upward to split an Astram soldier across the chest. The number above the arena ticks down¡ª200... 187... 173... In under a minute, it hits 150. Fifty gone. Just like that. Alix watches the number flash. "They really hate each other so much," he mutters. Across the field, formations are already forming¡ªlines snapping into place, units clustering, shields raised, casters moving behind cover. "Form up!" a voice bellows from the Ember Claw ranks. Brakar, still locked in brutal melee, shouts between gritted teeth, "Second wave¡ªanchor left flank! Cut off their backliners!" Lathar spins out of a duel, breath ragged. "We need to move, now. If we stay scattered, we''re going to be picked apart." Alix nods. "Everyone, on me. Tight diamond. Prioritize movement and protection. Don''t overextend." Several Ember Claw soldiers nearby pause. They hesitate¡ªnot because they doubt the command, but because of who gave it. Their eyes flick to Alix. Just a new commander. No insignia of rank beyond the minimum. No famed exploits. No deep veteran lines scored into his armor. But Brakar isn''t giving orders¡ªhe''s too deep in his own war, locked in a bone-splitting clash with his sworn enemy. And in the chaos of the arena, someone has to lead. The hesitation doesn''t last long. One of Brakar''s unit captains¡ªhis left pauldron dented and helm missing¡ªgrits his teeth and gives a sharp nod. "Form on the new command!" he barks. "You heard him! Diamond pattern¡ªmove!" Chapter 192 194: The Second Stage (part 1) The Ember Claw soldiers shift without another word. Armor scrapes. Shields raise. Bloodied warriors fall in around Alix, forming the shape he called for. Tight diamond¡ªfront rank shield-bearers, rear and flanks covered by mages and ranged units, middle packed with flexible fighters. Alix steps into the heart of the formation, his voice calm but firm. "Front line¡ªbrace and absorb. Rear line¡ªtarget high-value casters. Anyone straying out of formation dies. We move as one." A blast of green fire slams against their left side¡ªan Astram caster unleashing chainfire bolts. Shields strain, but hold. The formation sways but doesn''t break. "Suppress the caster!" Alix calls out. "Second row, three o''clock!" Three Ember Claw mages raise their staves as one. A coordinated volley of lightning and fire arcs over the front line, slamming into the Astram mage just as he begins casting again. The spell dies in his throat as his chest explodes in flame. He didn''t even have time to scream. He just crumples. Alix exhales sharply. "Keep moving. Shift east. Don''t hold one spot too long¡ªthey''ll start bombarding." They do. Within seconds, Astram spells rain down on where Alix''s group had just been. An explosion of frost and dark energy shatters the stones behind them. "Forward. Step by step." Their formation inches through the storm. They don''t fight to dominate¡ªthey fight to survive. Pick off stragglers, overwhelm solo targets, retreat before they''re surrounded. Precision instead of power. Alix watches every angle. He calls targets. Redirects movement. Tells a shieldbearer to swap with a wounded one before the gap opens. Orders a stunned caster pulled back by a glaivehook. It doesn''t feel like leading a war. It feels like playing an instrument with bloodied strings. The number over the arena ticks down¡ª142... 126... 119... A howl erupts to their right¡ªtwo Ember Claw soldiers about to be swarmed. "Break rank¡ªleft wing, reinforce!" Alix snaps. They do. Not even a second''s hesitation. The diamond formation splits in a practiced motion¡ªfour warriors sweeping out in a half-arc to slam into the Astram flanking force. The two overwhelmed soldiers stumble back into formation, barely alive. Alix flicks his blade to the side, deflecting a thrown dagger, and hurls a small orb of compressed fire into a leaping assassin. The Astram fighter hits the ground, limbs bending wrong. "Regroup. Hold shape. We''re almost there." They are. Alix glances at the number again. Still dropping fast. Screams echo. Explosions crack through the air like thunder. But his formation, is still up. Holding. No one''s speaking anymore. Just breathing. Fighting. Surviving. Then¡ªsuddenly¡ª The number hits with a chime that rings through the air like a temple bell. Alix''s body seizes. Everyone can''t move. His sword arm freezes mid-guard. His feet lock to the ground. All around him, Ember Claw and Astram alike fall still¡ªstatues of war, some locked in strikes, others collapsed in wounded heaps. A sharp pulse of light explodes outward from the center of the arena¡ªbrilliant and blinding. It floods across every frozen figure, washing the battlefield in a pale white glow. And then¡ª They vanish. A split-second later, Alix''s boots land hard on solid stone. The light fades. The noise dies. They''re outside again. Around him, Ember Claw warriors drop to their knees or sink to the ground. Most are covered in blood. Many are burned. Some sob. Some look around, dazed, unsure if this is real. Brakar is kneeling, chest heaving, axe resting beside him. Blood drips from a hundred cuts on his body¡ªbut the fire in his eyes still burns. The Astram commander he was fighting? Gone. Only a black smear remains where he fell. Lathar steps to Alix''s side, panting, blades dripping. He doesn''t say anything for a moment¡ªjust stares at the horizon with wide, hollow eyes. Then he exhales. "So... you have some talent in strategy." Alix wipes blood off his blade with a controlled motion. His voice is cool, almost casual. "Just some basic strategy." Lathar lets out a dry, bitter laugh. "Basic, huh? You led like you''ve done it a hundred times." Alix says nothing. But in his mind, he reflects, ''In my past life, I''ve done it more than a hundred times in games.'' Maps. Units. Movement. Control. Games, simulations, ranked battles. Endless late nights optimizing builds, watching replays, breaking down enemy formations. In his old world, it was all pixels. Now, it''s blood and bone. He glances around. The survivors number just under sixty. Fewer Ember Claw than they started with¡ªbut more than he expected. The formation, the quick adjustments, the focused strikes¡ªit saved lives. On the other side of the chamber, another group begins to form. The Astram survivors. Their numbers are visibly thinner. Barely over forty. Brakar finally rises, wiping blood from his mouth. His voice is gravelly as he laughs. "Haha, I finally killed that bastard." The remaining four arenas begin to flare, white light pulsing from their centers, and then, one by one, the survivors are ejected out. In the second arena, the Astram dominate. Roaring, bloodied, and victorious. In the third arena, Ember Claw holds¡ªbarely. In the fourth and fifth, Astram holds full control. Alix watches them appear, one cluster at a time. He counts, silently. ''Only two arenas where Ember Claw came out on top.'' His thought. ''No wonder these guys haven''t overthrown Astram. Their hate burns hot, but their strength is a mess.'' The air is thick. Not just with blood, but tension. Dozens of survivors eye each other across the massive chamber¡ªhundreds of them now gathered on the smooth, dark stone, enclosed by walls etched with glowing veins of runes. Then¡ª BOOM. The central monolith thrums to life once more, a beam of light shooting upward from its tip. Everyone turns toward it instinctively. More glowing text begins to etch itself onto the stone''s surface, steady and clear: [Stage Two: Trial of Beasts] [Participants will be randomly assigned into groups of 20.] [Each group must survive waves of beasts chosen at random.] [Fail, and you die. Succeed, and you advance.] A hush spreads as the last line of glowing text sinks into the stone. One of the Ember Claw soldiers, a tall spearman with a torn cloak and blood crusting his jaw, growls under his breath, "Wait... does that mean we''ll be paired with those scum?" The word scum hangs in the air like a spark waiting to catch flame. Lathar, standing beside Alix, doesn''t look over. He just mutters, "Looks like it." His eyes scan the Astram survivors. "This is going to be hard." Another Ember Claw curses under his breath. A few shift uneasily, fingers twitching near their weapons. Tension climbs fast¡ªyears of blood feuds and bitter losses pressing on every soldier''s throat. Alix doesn''t let it build. He turns sharply to his unit, voice slicing through the air like a blade. "We only have five minutes to heal. So unless you want to die in the next round, I suggest you stop whining and start moving." He raises one hand and a soft pulse of light flashes over his armor as a healing rune activates. Around him, the Ember Claw soldiers snap into motion. Potions uncork. Bandages are torn from pouches. Mages kneel to cast weak but efficient restoration spells. Wounds hiss and seal. Bones reset. Burns cool. Across the chamber, the other Ember Claw commanders bark similar orders. "Medic circle, now!" "Prioritize the front-liners!" "Anyone half-dead, speak up¡ªdon''t be stupid!" Even the Astram groups begin to shift¡ªthough more coldly, more quietly. Their formation discipline is still visible, even in rest. They patch wounds with the same calm ruthlessness they showed in battle. Brakar leans against his axe, watching them, jaw tight. "We''re fighting beasts next," he mutters. "Not each other. But mark my words... if I see one of them, I will stab thos scum in the back mid-round..." Alix doesn''t look at him. "They are probably thinking the same." Brakar huffs, almost a laugh, but not quite. "Fair enough." The five arenas rumble suddenly¡ªthen collapse straight into the ground as if swallowed by the earth. In their place, a massive dome rises from the stone floor. It''s seamless, smooth, and covered in a thick swirling fog that clings to its surface like smoke. No one can see inside. A low hum pulses from within. It sounds like breath¡ªlong, slow, and heavy. Then, without warning, a flash of white light. Twenty figures vanish from the chamber floor and reappear inside the dome. Thirteen from Ember Claw. Seven from Astram. Everyone watches in tense silence. No one knows what happens inside. The fog conceals everything. The only sounds are distant thuds, occasional roars, and faint screams that send chills down the spine. Brakar squints. "That''s not normal mist," he mutters. "It''s masking spells... heavy ones." Lathar nods slowly, his expression grim. "Which means whatever''s going on in there, we''re not supposed to see it." So they wait. Five minutes pass. Seven. Eight. Then, light flares along the dome''s base. A pulse of energy ripples outward, and in a blink, figures begin to reappear. Teleported back. Alix''s eyes narrow as five Ember Claw survivors suddenly manifest near the dome''s edge, slumping to the ground in bloody heaps. Two of them can barely crawl. One collapses outright, still breathing, but only just. A heartbeat later, three Astram survivors flash into place across the chamber. They''re in no better shape¡ªburned, torn, smeared in gore that isn''t all their own. One is missing an arm. Another is vomiting dark blood onto the stone. It''s silent for a moment. Then the chamber erupts in noise. "Five? That''s it?!" an Ember Claw soldier snarls, clawed hands balling into fists. "Thirteen went in!" Across the floor, a tall Astram warrior with scaled skin slams a fist into the ground. "Three?! What kind of monsters were in there?" Chapter 193 - 195: The Second Stage (part 2) 4:32 The timer ticks on, glowing a little brighter now with each passing second. The runes ripple faintly across the monolith''s surface¡ªlike it''s waking up. Alix watches it without blinking, arms still folded. Behind him, the air stirs. Boots stomp on stone. Armored figures emerge from the misted pathways like ghosts returning from battle. Some drag wounded behind them. Others limp. Many come alone. Ember Claw reinforcements arrive slowly¡ªbut not proudly. No cheers. No relief. Just silence and tired eyes. Among them, the Ember Claw commanders begin to appear. The tall, broad figure of Commander Brakar steps into the clearing with a small cluster of battered soldiers behind him. His red pauldrons are cracked, one arm wrapped tightly in makeshift bandages. There''s a faint burn scar trailing across one side of his cheek. Lathar notices him first. He straightens, instinctively squaring his shoulders¡ªexpecting some kind of jab. But Brakar just walks past, quiet. He doesn''t even glance in Lathar''s direction. Lathar blinks. "...Okay, now that''s unsettling." Alix doesn''t respond. Another Ember Claw squad enters, followed by two more commanders. They look worse. Blood stains their armor. Their squads are ragged, barely a dozen soldiers each. No more than half their expected numbers. On the other side, Astram commanders begin to arrive as well. Their expressions are the same¡ªworn, grim. Their formations are thin, uneven. Some units are missing entirely. Everyone walks like they''ve been through something that took more than just numbers from them. 3:17 The tension is thick now¡ªalmost physical. The hum of the monolith deepens, pulsing slowly like a heartbeat echoing through stone. Lathar watches Brakar as he stands at the edge of the Ember Claw formation, unmoving, his gaze fixed on the Astram side like he''s staring at a ghost. Lathar steps up beside him, crossing his arms. "...What''s with the long face? Not used to seeing me in one piece?" Brakar doesn''t rise to the bait. Not like he usually does. He exhales slowly through his nose, jaw tight. "You see that bastard over there?" Lathar follows his gaze. Across the field, half-slumped against a support pole, flanked by what''s left of his command squad. His armor is in tatters. One eye swollen shut. He''s barely standing, but the glint in his eye¡ªspiteful, proud¡ªstill burns. Brakar''s voice lowers. "That''s Darse." Lathar narrows his eyes. Recognition flickers. "...You serious?" Brakar gives a stiff nod. "The reason I joined Ember Claw in the first place," he mutters. "He led the raid on Red Vale. Burned the whole damn village to ash. My family was in that village. They all died." Lathar goes quiet. Brakar''s fists clench. "Since we arrived here, I''ve had one goal¡ªto find him, kill him, and make it count." He scoffs bitterly. "I did find him. We tore through his units like fire through straw. But that bastard... he sacrificed his own men. Threw them at us just to cover his escape." His voice cracks with quiet fury. "Took half of my unit with him in the process." Lathar looks at him for a long moment. Then he says, quiet but firm, "Brakar. Don''t start anything. Not now." Brakar grits his teeth, gaze never leaving Darse. "I know," he mutters. "If I start a fight now, a war will erupt in this room." Lathar nods slowly, letting out a breath. "Good. You''re still on your right mind then." Brakar gives a dry grunt. "Barely." They fall silent, the hum of the monolith filling the air around them. Neither man moves. Neither speaks. The countdown glows steadily above, unrelenting. They fall silent, the hum of the monolith filling the air around them. Neither man moves. Neither speaks. The countdown glows steadily above, unrelenting. 2:02 More Ember Claw units trickle in¡ªlimping, bloody, worn thin. Commanders regroup with what''s left of their squads, murmuring quietly, their eyes locked on the monolith and the ticking timer. By the time the countdown hits :30, the Ember Claw side has gathered nearly its full strength. Ten out of thirteen commanders now stand in formation. On the Astram side, the numbers are starkly different. Only ten of their twenty commanders have returned. Their forces are thinner, more ragged. Whole squads are missing. Some groups have no officer among them at all. A tall monster steps forward¡ªTier 5, draped in ornate blue armor and tattered robes, his expression strained and sharp. He looks around slowly, voice low but cutting. "...How did this happen?" he says. "There''s no way. No way only three of their commanders fell... and we lost ten." Another commander nearby scoffs. "They must still be on their way," she says quickly, grasping for logic. "They''ll come. Just... delayed." The Tier 5 man turns toward her, eyes narrowing. "We''re not talking about foot soldiers. These are commanders. You think ten of them all just happened to fall behind?" Before anyone can answer¡ª BOOM. A low, grinding thud echoes across the clearing. Everyone whirls around. The stone entrances that lead into the chamber begin to close. Heavy slabs of dark rock rumble into place, sealing off each pathway with a final, echoing slam. A pale red light pulses across the surface of the monolith. Then, lines of glowing text begin to scroll across the face of the stone in a language everyone can read: [The final phase has begun. All entrants are closed. Anyone still outside this chamber will be terminated.] A hush falls. The Astram commander stares at the message, jaw clenched. "What..." A low hum starts to build. Then the ground shifts. With a deep, grinding roar, five circular platforms rise from the stone floor¡ªmassive rings that spread out across the chamber. Energy pulses around their edges, and within moments, shimmering barriers surge up, forming translucent domes over each arena. Everyone steps back. The monolith pulses again. New text etches itself across the glowing stone surface in sharp, clear lines: [To claim the final prize, all must pass through five stages.] [Stage One: Survival.] [Each arena must be reduced to exactly 100 survivors to advance.] Gasps ripple through the gathered monsters. Lathar mutters, "Wait... What?" Brakar squints at the monolith, as if hoping he misread it. "Each arena has to be reduced to one hundred? There''s five arenas. That''s¡ª" "Two hundred in each," Alix says quietly, his tone neutral. "One thousand of us in total." One of the Astram commanders steps forward, snarling, "That''s not survival¡ªthat''s slaughter. They want us to kill each other." Another voice rises from the Ember Claw ranks, guttural and bitter. "This is nice, I''ve been itching to kill those bastards. I just didn''t encounter those idiots outside." The shields around each arena begin to shimmer, shifting in hue¡ªcolors spiraling slowly like liquid light. Then without warning, pillars rise from the center of each ring and pulse once, casting down rays of energy. One Ember Claw commander roars. "COME ON THEN, ASTRAM SCUM! I''LL RIP TEN OF YOU DOWN WITH ME!" A snarling Astram commander laughs. "Try it! I''ll stack Ember Claw skulls till I build a throne!" The tension snaps like a drawn bowstring. With a flash of light¡ªinstant and blinding¡ªbodies vanish. Alix barely registers the shift before his feet slam down on new ground. The arena. Wide. Enclosed. The dome above hums with energy. Around him¡ªchaos. He hears steel clash against bone, fire igniting, magic screaming. All around, monsters are already tearing into each other. A horned brute crashes into a lean, blade-armed warrior before either can orient. Blood sprays. Screams echo. Lathar lands nearby, rolling to absorb the impact. He rises fast, blades drawn, eyes already scanning. "This is madness." Brakar materializes a few meters away, shield raised, axe in hand. His face is stone. "Here I come, bastard!!!." A hulking Astram commander beast snarls across from them, his eyes locking with Brakar''s. Recognition. Hatred. "You again, you Ember filth?" the beast growls. Brakar steps forward. "This time you won''t be able to get away." Without warning, the Astram commander charges. Brakar meets him head-on with a roar, the impact shaking the ground beneath them. Elsewhere in the arena, Ember Claw and Astram forces collide like crashing tides. Spells arc. Fangs flash. Bodies fall. Alix sidesteps a spear thrust and counters with a precise strike, cutting down a lunging lizard-like warrior. No time to speak. No time to think. Lathar ducks under a blast of ice, slashing upward to split an Astram soldier across the chest. The number above the arena ticks down¡ª200... 187... 173... In under a minute, it hits 150. Fifty gone. Just like that. Alix watches the number flash. "They really hate each other so much," he mutters. Across the field, formations are already forming¡ªlines snapping into place, units clustering, shields raised, casters moving behind cover. "Form up!" a voice bellows from the Ember Claw ranks. Brakar, still locked in brutal melee, shouts between gritted teeth, "Second wave¡ªanchor left flank! Cut off their backliners!" Lathar spins out of a duel, breath ragged. "We need to move, now. If we stay scattered, we''re going to be picked apart." Alix nods. "Everyone, on me. Tight diamond. Prioritize movement and protection. Don''t overextend." Several Ember Claw soldiers nearby pause. They hesitate¡ªnot because they doubt the command, but because of who gave it. Their eyes flick to Alix. Just a new commander. No insignia of rank beyond the minimum. No famed exploits. No deep veteran lines scored into his armor. But Brakar isn''t giving orders¡ªhe''s too deep in his own war, locked in a bone-splitting clash with his sworn enemy. And in the chaos of the arena, someone has to lead. The hesitation doesn''t last long. One of Brakar''s unit captains¡ªhis left pauldron dented and helm missing¡ªgrits his teeth and gives a sharp nod. "Form on the new command!" he barks. "You heard him! Diamond pattern¡ªmove!" Chapter 194 - 196: Alix Is Going In A sudden gust of wind tears through the clearing as Thales reacts just as fast. "Tier 4: Gale Lock!" He carves a sharp sigil in the air, and a pressure pulse detonates outward from him in a precise circle. The encroaching swarm stumbles, thrown back as invisible force slams into them¡ªchitin snapping, limbs twisting, the air itself turning into a cage of sharpened gusts. Brakar doesn''t waste the opening. He surges forward like a charging boulder, his war axe already glowing with violent crimson runes. His voice is a low snarl. "Tier 4: Ember Rend!" The axe explodes with fire as he swings it in a wide arc, the flames coiling like serpents around the blade. It cleaves straight through the armored boar-beast''s skull in one blow, fire trailing behind like a comet. Bone splits, brains sizzle, and the thing crumples with a shaking thud. Another screech erupts from the trees as three flying creatures dive¡ªlong-winged, needle-beaked horrors with skin like stretched tar. "Right flank!" Thales barks, his voice sharp and practiced. "Don''t let them gain height!" Two of his soldiers answer instantly. One, a woman with golden tattoos etched across her arms, lifts her palms to the sky. "Tier 4: Sky Cutter!" With a snap, blades of wind flash upward¡ªnarrow arcs of compressed atmosphere. They rip two of the flying beasts in half midair. The third dodges, dives, then gets blasted from the side by a pillar of earth as an Ember Claw warrior channels ground magic to spike it with a jagged column of stone. The bodies fall like dead leaves. Brakar twists, swinging his axe again as more centipede-wolves burst through the trees. One lunges straight for his chest. Brakar ducks low, then steps into it¡ªhis axe slamming up under its jaw and cleaving through to the spine. The weapon hums with heat as he spins, dragging the body to hurl into another incoming beast. A soldier to his left screams¡ªan Astram soldier¡ªdragged to the ground by one of the beasts. Its mandibles lock onto his arm, snapping bone like dry twigs. Brakar sees it. He doesn''t hesitate. He bounds forward and kicks the beast off the soldier, then brings his axe down in a brutal vertical arc. CRACK. The centipede''s head splits down the middle, steam rising from the ruined body. The wounded Astram groans, barely conscious. Brakar growls over his shoulder. "Healers, on him! Don''t let one casualty break our flank!" Thales nods once. "Cover the backline!" Another Ember Claw mage joins hands with an Astram windcaller. A swirling spear of compressed heat and slicing air forms between them. It''s hurled with a shriek that cuts across the clearing¡ªand explodes on impact, vaporizing a cluster of beasts trying to encircle their rear. The forest trembles. More beasts still come. Now from the western ridge¡ªbigger, slower, with obsidian-scaled hides that shimmer with latent mana. "Magic-resistant," Thales says grimly. Brakar cracks his neck. "Then we go physical." He barrels forward again, faster than something his size should be. Minutes pass in carnage. Soldiers shout. Beasts shriek. Mana burns the air, thick and volatile. But the tide doesn''t end. They start to slow¡ªnot from hesitation, but exhaustion. The Ember Claw warriors fight with grit, shoulders hunched, arms trembling from constant blows. The Astram soldiers are more precise, but their casting is delayed now, steps heavier, timing breaking. Injuries pile up. One soldier from each side drops at nearly the same moment¡ªone to a crushed leg, the other bleeding out from a bite wound. Neither fatal. But both down. And they''re not the only ones. A mage slumps after overextending her mana. A blade dancer missteps and is thrown back, armor dented and bloodied. Then another crash. Something enormous lands just beyond the treeline, sending out a shockwave that flattens the grass and shakes leaves from branches. The beasts suddenly freeze. As if called to heel. Then scatter, vanishing into the forest''s edges like smoke pulled by wind. Silence. Then the trees part. It lumbers forward¡ªmassive and deliberate. At least fifteen feet tall at the shoulder, its frame quadrupedal, its back ridged with jagged obsidian plates. Its face is covered by a skull-like mask fused directly into its flesh. No eyes. Just glowing crimson slits beneath the bone. Its presence presses down on them like gravity. Mana thickens. The very forest seems to groan beneath it. Brakar''s voice is low. "That''s not Tier 4." Thales''s eyes narrow. "No. That''s a peak Tier 5." The soldiers shift¡ªbut none of them step forward. They''re spent. Bloodied. And they know. This fight is beyond them now. Brakar glances at the wounded, at the standing. Then at Thales. "They''re done." Thales nods, grim. Brakar steps forward, axe resting across one shoulder. He exhales once¡ªthen rolls his neck, cracking it loud enough to echo. "Guess it''s just us, then." Thales floats forward until he''s beside the brute of a man. "Try not to die, Ember." Brakar smirks. "You try not to run, wind-boy." The beast growls, low and deep. Its breath carries heat. And something else¡ªlike corrupted mana, old and rotting. Then it charges. The ground craters beneath it with the first step. Brakar meets it head-on. ----- Outside, it''s been twenty minutes. The silence around the monolith is heavy, broken only by the occasional shuffle of armor, the crackle of a campfire, or the distant cries of beasts deeper in the crypt. The air is still, but tension simmers in every breath. Lathar stands near the edge of the staging field, arms crossed, eyes locked on the monolith. He exhales slowly. "Twenty minutes. Think they''re still alive in there?" Alix stands a few steps away, posture relaxed but gaze sharp. "They are." Lathar glances sideways. "You''re sure?" Alix doesn''t look at him. "If Brakar were dead, the monolith would''ve reacted. We''d know." A beat of silence. Lathar shifts, clearly itching for more than vague confidence. "What do you think happens after we finish all five stages?" Alix''s eyes narrow slightly as he finally turns his head. "We don''t know. But seeing how both Astram and Veyrith are going all out..." His voice trails off, then continues flatly, "They might have an idea. Something worth the risk. Worth the bodies." Lathar huffs a laugh and shakes his head. "You could at least call him Lord Veyrith. Show a little respect. You''re already a commander." Alix shrugs, not unkindly. "I only joined because we all want the same thing. Title doesn''t matter. Goal does." Before Lathar can respond, the monolith hums¡ªlow at first, like a distant horn¡ªthen pulses with a flash of white-blue light. Everyone in the staging zone snaps to attention. Weapons half-raised. Healers pause mid-chant. Mages squint toward the light. Then¡ª Fwomp. A gust of wind rushes outward from the base of the monolith as twenty figures materialize. Brakar stands at the front, armor scuffed, streaked with ash and blood. One shoulder is torn open, flesh darkened from a burn, but he still holds his axe steady. Thales floats beside him, robes singed and torn at the hem, blood staining one side of his face. His breathing is shallow but composed. Behind them, the other soldiers slump. Some clutch wounds. One is being half-carried. Another is on a conjured stretcher of wind, barely conscious. Lathar steps forward, eyes scanning the group. "You made it." Brakar snorts. "Barely." One of the Astram soldiers limps past the monolith''s base, looking around at the others with wide, astonished eyes. "No one died," he murmurs. "Since the second stage started... that''s the first time a full group came back alive." The words ripple through the gathered soldiers like a wave. Even the Ember Claw troops blink, some turning to each other in silent surprise. Brakar doesn''t react to the praise. He turns, waving over two of his warriors. "Tend to this two warriors. Their ribs are cracked. Get that burn salve on his arm¡ªdon''t wait." The mages snap to it without hesitation. Packs open. Potions hiss. Bandages tighten around wounds. Their movements are brisk, efficient. This is what survival looks like. Lathar strides forward with a lopsided grin, nodding once in respect. "Nice job, Brakar. You didn''t let a single one of them fall." Brakar huffs, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Didn''t think I''d ever fight side by side with our enemy to survive, but here we are." Thales, still steadying himself with a flicker of mana, gives a dry chuckle. "The feeling''s mutual." Then the monolith hums again. Another group of twenty is chosen, half Ember Claw, half Astram. They vanish in a rush of light¡ªlike sparks scattered by wind. The soldiers left behind don''t relax. If anything, their jaws tighten. Minutes pass. And then they return. Not all of them. Another group goes in. More time. More losses. Another group goes in. More time passes. More losses. An hour slips by. Until finally, it''s Alix and ten others from his unit¡ªthey''re the last ones remaining. A blink of light. A pulling sensation, like the world turns inside out for half a breath. Then¡ªforest. Alix lands lightly, boots crunching down on wet leaves. The sky above is a green haze, thick with canopy and mist. Mana vibrates faintly in the air¡ªlike something old sleeps just beneath the roots. He exhales once, eyes narrowing. A second later, flickers of light surround him. In twos and threes, the rest of the Astram squad flashes into place¡ªwarriors, mages, one scout crouching with blades already drawn. Boots hit dirt. Weapons unsheath. Quick glances all around. They''re not alone. To his right, another ripple. More figures appear¡ªcloaked in deep gray and indigo armor, the unmistakable shimmer of Astram crests across their pauldrons. Chapter 195 - 197: Throwing Tier 5 Skills, Left And Right Their commander is among them. He steps forward without hesitation¡ªtall, lean, hair silvered with age but eyes sharp and calculating. The edge of his cloak catches the wind as he stops a few feet from Alix, gaze sliding over him with mild scrutiny. His brow furrows. "It''s my first time seeing you. Are you a new commander?" Alix doesn''t shift, doesn''t blink. His voice is calm but clear. "What about it if I am?" The older commander''s mouth twitches, not quite a sneer, not quite amusement. He exhales through his nose. "Tssk. What bad luck." A nearby soldier winces slightly at the bluntness, but Alix doesn''t flinch. Instead, a faint grin pulls at the edge of his mouth¡ªcold and unreadable. Alix''s voice cuts through the mist like a blade. "Yeah," he says. "It is bad luck to have you here. So just die." The Astram commander lets out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. But the sound doesn''t last. His expression never even has time to change. His head is already falling¡ªcleanly severed¡ªbefore the laugh finishes echoing through the trees. It hits the ground with a soft thump, his body still upright for half a second before it collapses like a puppet with its strings cut. Silence crashes down like thunder. Even the birds in the trees seem to hold their breath. The Astram soldiers freeze¡ªstaring at Alix as if they''re not quite sure what they just saw. Some blink. One instinctively steps back. Another grips his weapon tighter but doesn''t raise it. Even the Ember Claw soldiers behind Alix look stunned. Their commander just executed an Astram officer with a single movement, effortless and merciless. One Ember soldier, eyes wide, breathes, "Commander..." Alix doesn''t turn. He speaks without emotion, gaze locked on the remaining Astram troops. "Kill the rest." There''s a pause. Like the whole forest is waiting. Then, another Ember soldier speaks¡ªcautious, uncertain. "But... we need everyone we can get to survive the beasts. Even them." Alix doesn''t waver. "I said," he repeats, voice sharper now, "kill them." A heavy silence follows. Then Alix steps forward. Just one pace. That''s all it takes. The message is clear. Orders, not suggestions. And behind him, the Ember Claw soldiers move¡ªsome slowly, some still hesitant, but they move. Weapons lift. Spells crackle to life. Steel glints in the filtered forest light. The Astram troops, still reeling, instinctively begin to form up¡ªhalf defensive, half retreating. They understand now. This isn''t a misunderstanding. This isn''t a temporary alliance. This is execution. Alix doesn''t draw his blade again. He doesn''t need to. The Ember Claw soldiers descend like a storm. The Astram troops are still panicking, disorganized, disbelief clouding their reactions. They shout fragmented commands¡ªsome try to cast shields, others raise weapons, but none of it matters. A fire mage screams as an Ember blade slashes clean across his throat. Another Astram soldier raises his staff¡ªonly for an earth spike to erupt beneath him, skewering through his chest. One tries to flee, casting wind to boost his step¡ªbut a spear pins him mid-air, nailing him to a tree. The forest echoes with steel and blood. Minutes pass. And then¡ª Silence again. The last Astram body hits the ground with a hollow thud, twitching once, then still. The Ember Claw stand amid the carnage. Breathing hard. Limbs trembling. Many are bleeding. Some are barely upright. But they''re alive. Alix steps over a corpse, calm as ever. Blood spatters his boots, his coat, but his expression doesn''t change. He glances around, then speaks¡ªlow but firm. "Good." He turns to face his soldiers, eyes sharp. "I''ll take whatever beasts come next. You all stay down and heal." One soldier, a younger man with a gash across his brow, blinks like he misheard. "Alone...?" Another coughs from where he sits against a stone, blood on his lips. "Commander, we should set formation¡ªat least cast barriers¡ª" "I said stay down," Alix says, flatly. "But sir," the first one insists, "you''ll be overwhelmed. You might be strong, but¡ª" Alix cuts him off with a glance. A flicker of mana coils around his form like smoke tightening. "I''m not asking," Alix says. The weight of his voice drops like a stone in still water. Even the injured stop speaking. They remember, suddenly. They remember that Alix had fought Lathar to the ground. A peak Tier 5, beaten¡ªand not barely. One of the soldiers whispers, almost dazed, "He''s... serious." Then¡ª The air shifts. The mist grows heavier. Mana stirs unnaturally, dragging through the trees like invisible tides. Leaves rustle. Branches snap. The first beasts appear. Six-legged, hunched things with bone plating and vertical maws. Their eyes glow faintly, distorted by mana saturation. More follow. A dozen. Then more. Dozens. A full wave. Snarls echo across the glade. One Ember soldier starts to push up from the ground. Alix raises a hand, palm outward. "Don''t." The beasts roar as one. Alix steps forward, raising his other hand. Mana flares to life¡ªraw, vibrant, and overwhelming. Alix''s fingers curl around his sword hilt. The blade hums as it leaves the sheath, the air warping slightly around it, as if space itself recoils from the mana surging into the weapon. The beasts charge. "Tier 5," Alix murmurs, almost to himself. "Let''s see how many you can take." His eyes flash, glowing faintly. He slashes the blade sideways once¡ªclean, controlled. "[Infernal Crescent]!" A surge of fire bursts from the arc of his blade, wide and devastating. It doesn''t just burn¡ªit consumes, shaped like a crescent moon of molten death. It arcs through the first rank of beasts like a scythe, splitting them open mid-charge. Bodies explode into charred husks, flames clinging to their corpses like hungry ghosts. The shockwave knocks the others back. Screeches fill the forest. Panic. Chaos. Alix moves before the smoke clears. He leaps forward, boots barely touching the ground. Mana gathers at his sword again¡ªthis time cold, dense, and crushing. He spins once in mid-air and plunges his blade into the dirt with force that splits the forest floor. "[Glacial Burst]!" The earth erupts upward as jagged spears of ice explode outward in every direction. The frost radiates through the air, freezing limbs, shattering bones. The remaining beasts are caught mid-motion¡ªfrozen, shattered, or both. Shards of ice rain down like glass. The entire first wave is obliterated. Not one survives. Silence. The glade is littered with the steaming remains of burnt bodies and frostbitten limbs. The injured Ember Claw soldiers stare from where they sit or lie¡ªwide-eyed, stunned. Not a single one of them has moved. One of them finally breathes, voice soft, almost reverent. "...He only used two tier 5 skills." Another mutters, "That''s... That''s Tier 5? He is using tier 5 skills, like they''re tier 4." The silence doesn''t last. The ground trembles again¡ªheavier this time. The second wave charges out of the mist with savage urgency. Larger beasts this time¡ªtusked and armored, some with wings that snap like sails above their hunched forms. One screeches, a high-pitched wail that shatters a nearby branch. And Alix moves. He doesn''t wait. Doesn''t hesitate. "[Storm Fang]!" A vacuum tears open as he slashes horizontally¡ªwind and space ripping apart. The air itself bends, pulling beasts into the rift before collapsing with a thunderous snap. Bones shatter. Flesh is flayed. The impact is clean and unnatural. Then¡ªone final flourish. His sword glows deep gold, radiant with a fierce, searing light. "[Solar Cleave]!" He brings the blade down like a guillotine. A column of pure light erupts forward in a straight line¡ªsearing, blinding. It cuts through everything. Trees. Rock. Beast. The path it leaves behind is molten glass and ash. And just like that¡ªagain¡ªthe second wave is gone. The Ember Claw soldiers don''t even speak this time. They just stare. One finally chokes out, "That... that was three more. That''s five now. Five." A woman beside him, shoulder torn and wrapped in bloody cloth, whispers, "Isn''t Tier 5s usually only have five." "They do," another says, voice hoarse with disbelief. "That''s how it''s always been. Commander Lathar had five. Some commanders had four." A third roar breaks the air. The third wave. Dozens again. More than before. This time they come faster. Angrier. Bigger. Some crawl along the cliffsides. Some break from the trees with green, glowing eyes. Some fly. The Ember Claw soldiers look up in horror. "Gods," one whispers. "There''s too many¡ª" Then they all see him. Alix steps out alone. No formation. No barriers. He raises his sword. And lets loose. Shortly after, the Ember Claw soldiers stare at the wasteland left behind. Smoke. Ice. Stone. Lightning. Craters. Nothing moves. Not one beast remains. No one speaks for a full ten seconds. Then someone exhales, shaky and half-hysterical. "That''s ten. He''s already used ten Tier 5 skills." "Impossible," another mutters. "It''s impossible. Is he some kind of heir to a powerful force from the main continent?" "He''s not even breathing hard." Alix stands still, sword dripping faint mana like dew. His expression hasn''t changed. The silence is broken again. But this time, it''s not from a horde. It''s just one step. Heavy. Slow. Deliberate. The trees part, branches splintering under the weight of something massive. A single beast emerges from the fog¡ªtaller than the trees, its body layered in plated obsidian armor that pulses faintly with violet veins. Its maw is split down the center, like a cracked boulder, and each breath it takes warps the mana around it. Its eyes lock onto Alix. A peak Tier 5. The air distorts around it, thick with pressure and barely-contained force. Alix''s gaze sharpens, but he doesn''t flinch. He raises a brow, almost bored. "A peak Tier 5?" he says under his breath. Chapter 196 - 198: [ANOMALY DETECTED.] Behind him, one of the Ember Claw soldiers gasps. "That''s... that thing''s its aura is stronger than commander Lathar." Another said under their breath. "Commander¡ª" Alix steps forward once. His voice cuts through the tension. "Stay down." The beast lets out a guttural roar. Trees bend. Some snap clean. Mana crackles like a stormcloud around its frame. Alix exhales softly. His sword is still at his side, point down. He doesn''t draw it fully this time. He doesn''t need to. Mana gathers at his fingertips¡ªdark and radiant, hot and cold, two opposing forces spiraling together in tight orbit. He murmurs, barely audible. "[Crimson Nova]..." His other hand rises, palm facing forward. Frost clings to his wrist, spreading upward in jagged patterns. "...[Frost Rend]." The air goes still. Then everything moves at once. He slams his palms together. The resulting explosion is soundless for a breathless instant¡ªlight and shadow twisting around one another. Then a detonation rips through the battlefield with a boom so loud it sends shockwaves rippling outward, flattening the trees, the rocks, the world itself for a hundred meters in every direction. Fire and ice combine in a spiraling vortex that swallows the peak Tier 5 beast whole. It thrashes, howling, but the magic grips tighter¡ªflesh boiling and freezing simultaneously, armor plates cracking, splitting, melting. Then¡ª BOOM. A second shockwave rips through the sky. The containment dome surrounding the battlefiel, reinforced to withstand an attack of a multiple tier 5, shatters like glass. Cracks splinter through the sky itself. The magic barrier groans¡ªand collapses. Outside, Ember Claw forces and Astram alike look up as the glowing dome ruptures overhead. "What the hell was that?!" one Astram commander shouts, his head whipping toward the epicenter. Another Ember soldier stares, mouth open. "The barrier¡ªdid it just break?!" Back on the battlefield, the blast settles. Ash falls like snow. The crater left behind is wide, deep, scorched at the edges and glassy near the center. Steam rises from it. And in the very middle¡ªwhat''s left of the peak Tier 5 beast lies motionless. Charred. Frozen. Unrecognizable. Alix stands at the edge of the crater. His coat flutters faintly from the aftershock winds. The wind dies down. The forest is silent. Then¡ª Crack. The air itself fractures. The shattered dome overhead crumbles into glittering fragments, disintegrating like fragile glass under a hammer. Light bends unnaturally. Trees¡ªonce looming and thick¡ªfade out of existence like illusions, blinking away piece by piece until only a flat, eerie emptiness remains. The trial field is collapsing. Before anyone can process what they''re seeing, a sound echoes through the air for the first time since this began: [ANOMALY DETECTED.] The voice is emotionless. Cold. Mechanical. It booms from the black monolith at the heart of the sky¡ªnow glowing, pulsing red. [TRIAL CANCELED. ALL PARTICIPANTS MARKED FOR ANNIHILATION.] A heartbeat later, beams of searing light explode outward from the monolith¡ªthin, focused, and lethal. They strike the ground, the soldiers, the beasts¡ªanything that moves. Screams erupt across the field as bodies vanish into ash. One beam snaps toward Alix¡ª He raises a hand. Swat. The light scatters like dust. Around the air is thick with smoke and magic residue. Broken formations scatter the field. Soldiers on both sides¡ªEmber Claw and Astram¡ªlie in various states of confusion and panic. He blinks once. "...What the hell just happened?" Alix mutters. His voice cuts through the chaos. Lathar''s voice answers, sharp and close behind him. "I was about to ask you the same damn thing," he says, boots crunching through broken stone and frost-shattered earth as he jogs toward Alix. Dust streaks his armor, and one of his pauldrons is cracked, but his expression is focused. "What happened inside, did you broke the barrier?" Alix doesn''t turn immediately. He watches the monolith, still glowing red like an open wound in the sky. Alix watches in silence, eyes narrowing at the pulsing glow above. Then¡ª Lathar steps beside him, tension thick in his voice. "No... no, that''s impossible. I doubt even Lord Veyrith could break that barrier. That''s not important right now, we need to get out of here. Now." He turns, glancing toward the edges of the shattered battlefield. "Commanders have been trying to open a path, but nothing works. Every exit''s sealed. The entire chamber''s locked down. No matter what they throw at it¡ªtier 5 spells, artifacts¡ªthey can''t even scratch the walls." Alix''s lips curl upward in a faint smirk. He mutters, half to himself, "Then isn''t this the perfect chance... to make these monsters mine." From within his coat, he pulls out a small, hexagonal token¡ªetched with runes that shimmer in defiance of the surrounding magic. He presses his thumb into it. A flash of light pulses beneath his feet. Then¡ªwhoosh. Alix lifts off the ground, calmly hovering above the chaos. Gasps erupt from below. "Commander Alix is flying?!" "That''s not possible! No one can fly here¡ª!" From both the Ember Claw and Astram sides, soldiers stare in awe and disbelief. Then¡ª Another wave of pressure floods the area as the monolith begins to shift again, targeting him. But Alix is ready. He produces a second item¡ªthis one shaped like a black shard of glass, glowing with a soft blue core. He throws it into the air. Click. Time seems to freeze for a moment. The monolith flickers. Its beams hesitate. Then, with a mechanical whine, its lights dim, temporarily shut down. The sky above still pulses red, but it no longer attacks. Silence falls again. Even Lathar, still below, stares up with a rare look of stunned awe. Alix hovers above them all, cloak rippling gently behind him. His voice cuts through the thick, charged air¡ªmeasured, firm, regal. "Listen closely." He scans the field. "I will reintroduce myself¡ªnot as a commander of the Ember Claw group..." He pauses, letting the words settle. "...but as the King of Erevaris." Shock ripples through the crowd. A few commanders shift uncomfortably. One Astram captain steps forward, incredulous. "There is no Kingdoms in our continent," he says. "So that means you''re from here. From the Three-Kingdom Continent." Alix meets his gaze without flinching. "That''s right," he says coldly. "The same continent you were planning to invade after this event." Murmurs erupt. Several soldiers freeze in place. Others glance at their commanders, unsure. Alix''s voice hardens. "But now, things have changed." He raises his sword slightly, enough to let its aura flicker like a warning. "You''re trapped. The monolith is still active. And your strongest can''t break the walls." He lets those truths sink in¡ªslow and heavy. "Right now, I hold the only means to stop that thing from vaporizing all of you." His eyes blaze faint gold. "So I''ll give you a choice." His voice rings louder now, commanding. "Kneel and submit to me, and I promise you all, you will leave this place alive." Another pause. His gaze sweeps across the stunned crowd¡ªsoldiers, commanders, elites. Astram and Ember Claw alike. "Don''t take your time deciding." He nods once toward the monolith, still dormant but flickering dangerously. "I''ve only bought you a few minutes." Silence. Lathar steps forward. He doesn''t kneel. His voice is quiet, but strained¡ªlike he''s forcing it through a tightening chest. "...So, you''ve been my enemy all along." Alix looks down at him, expression unreadable. The air between them is heavy. Not with mana. But with something deeper. Trust. The edges of betrayal. "Enemy?" Alix says evenly. "No, Lathar. I''ve never seen you as an enemy." Lathar''s eyes harden. "But you''re not one of us. Everything you said... this kingdom of yours... You''ve been hiding it all this time. Watching us. Using us." The crowd around them stays deathly still. Even the Astram commanders don''t speak. Alix''s voice remains calm. Too calm. "Tell me, Lathar," he says, floating a little higher, his tone shifting from cold to pointed, "aren''t you stuck at the peak of Tier 5?" Lathar''s mouth tightens. Alix flicks his hand. Fwump. Ten books materialize around him in a perfect spiral. Each one radiates so much pressure that the air visibly warps around them. Runes shimmer down their bindings¡ªcomplex, ancient, viciously dense with magic. Then another ten appear¡ªdifferent symbols, different power. Elemental cores swirl inside them like living eyes. Twenty books. Ten Tier 6 skills. Ten Tier 6 spells. Floating. Waiting. Gasps ripple like lightning through the soldiers. "Is that...?" "Those are Tier 6 books..." "I''ve never even seen one before..." "Even our two leader only have three each¡ª!" Lathar stares up, stunned. Even the Astram commanders falter¡ªeyes wide, hearts sinking. "W-Where did you even get that many¡ª?" Alix doesn''t answer. He simply lets the weight of it all settle¡ªtwenty books pulsing with enough power to tear apart cities. And one man standing at the center of it, unshaken. "I don''t need to fight you, Lathar," Alix says finally. "I still respect you." He tilts his head, voice quiet. "But if you raise your sword against me now, I will crush you." Lathar doesn''t respond right away. His fists are clenched at his sides. The disappointment in his eyes burns hotter than anger. He looks around. At the monolith, pulsing back to life. At the soldiers. Confused. Frightened. At the kneeling ones. And then, finally, back at Alix¡ªfloating above them all, crowned in silence and fire. Lathar inhales slowly, the muscles in his jaw tightening. He doesn''t look away from Alix as he speaks¡ªhis voice low, heavy. "I''ll ask you," he says. "Can you defeat the two Lords?" Alix doesn''t hesitate. "They''re just Tier 6. Not even peak Tier 6." His eyes narrow, the faint golden glow intensifying. "I can kill them together." The air grows still again. A murmur runs through the remaining soldiers¡ªstunned, uncertain, afraid. Chapter 197 - 199: Tier 7 Beast ''Even without using my items...'' he thinks, eyes flicking briefly to the still-flickering monolith above. ''...I can take those two down. Easy.'' Lathar exhales, then steps forward, closer than before. There''s something different in his voice now¡ªnot suspicion. Not anger. But a sharp, quiet fear. "You must be eyeing our continent." Alix tilts his head, his expression unreadable. "Promise me," Lathar says. "Promise me you won''t become the next Astram. Promise me you won''t enslave, conquer, or burn." The wind whistles faintly as the sky cracks further above them. And Alix answers¡ªfirmly, without pause. "Of course." He speaks with no theatrics now. Just a steady, grounded truth. "I don''t find joy in enslaving others. And I won''t oppress those under me." He looks down¡ªnot with superiority, but with certainty. "My people aren''t my tools. They''re my strength. I won''t rule through fear. Not like Astram." The soldiers shift again. Some are watching Alix differently now¡ªmore than fear, more than awe. Something bordering on hope. Belief. Lathar studies him. Really studies him. His fingers twitch, like he wants to unsheathe his sword¡ªout of habit, out of instinct. But he doesn''t. He lowers his gaze for the first time. A long breath escapes him. "...Then prove it, King of Erevaris." Alix''s eyes narrow slightly. "What do you mean?" Lathar straightens. "You say you won''t oppress. Then don''t force them. Show them." He nods to the field¡ªthe chaos, the scattered bodies, the silence still stretching like a blade across it all. "Give them a reason to follow. Not a threat." Alix glances down at the soldiers. Some kneeling. Some trembling. Some standing but uncertain. He looks at them not as pawns¡ªbut people. Then he lowers slowly, descending until his boots touch the ground with a faint crunch of glass and frost. The books vanish, dissolving into threads of light. And he speaks again¡ªthis time to everyone. "I''m not your enemy. I''m not here to take what''s yours." He raises a hand and points to the monolith above. "That is the real threat. And right now, I''m the only one who can stop it." He steps forward, his voice calm, resolute. Before anyone can respond¡ª BOOM. The ground trembles. The monolith groans, groaning as ancient mechanisms churn deep inside it. Black smoke jets from the base, followed by a deep, guttural clang. Then, a voice¡ªmechanical, cold, emotionless¡ªechoes from within the structure: [Assessing anomaly...] Everyone freezes. A blood-red bolts coursing through the cracks above. [Critical deviation detected.] A low hum begins to rise, a resonance that makes the very bones in the soldiers'' bodies vibrate. Alix''s gaze sharpens. [Releasing the guardian.] A heavy thud follows. Then another. The wall splits open, hissing steam and grinding stone echoing across the battlefield. Then, a massive claw wreathed in flames bursts out and slams down on the earth, sending shockwaves that knock lesser soldiers off their feet. A massive lion-like beast steps out. Its mane roars with fire, flickering like a solar storm. Each breath it takes ignites the air. Its eyes burn like molten cores, locked onto the intruders. The aura hits like a tidal wave. Oppressive. Suffocating. Dominant. The Tier 4 and below soldiers crumple to their knees instantly, unable to even raise their weapons. Many collapse altogether, trembling. The commanders act fast¡ªshields raised, barriers flaring to life as they scramble to protect their units. Some scream. Others can only stare. Alix doesn''t flinch. He looks at the beast¡ªmassive, glowing, seething with untamed power¡ªand tilts his head slightly. Then he speaks, almost casually: "Oh. A Tier 7 beast. What a surprise." He hovers higher again, cloak swirling. That single sentence echoes like a thunderclap. The crowd collectively stiffens. Eyes widen. Some soldiers gasp. Others go pale. One of the Ember Claw commanders drops his blade. "T-Tier... 7?" someone whispers. "I-Is he serious?! That''s... That''s impossible!" "I''ve never seen a Tier 6 beast, let alone¡ª" "Why would it even be here?!" Alix doesn''t answer them. His eyes remain fixed on the beast, studying it. Calm. Analytical. Even as it releases a thunderous roar that sends flame rolling across the battlefield. The flames never touch him. It''s as if the inferno parts around him. And slowly¡ªtensely¡ªthe crowd begins to understand. This isn''t just a show of power. It''s a reminder. That the only one standing between them and annihilation... Is him. Alix hovers just above the scorched ground, his eyes never leaving the blazing lion-beast as it snarls and paces like a living furnace. Each of its breaths sends sparks rippling through the air. But Alix? He exhales once¡ªslow, steady. Then he speaks. "Now I will show you..." His voice rings clear across the battlefield. "That you will not regret your decision." In an instant¡ª Fifteen Tier 5 skills activate at once. Blades of radiant light spiral into his body¡ªauras of strength, speed, clarity, willpower, durability, elemental resistance, and raw destructive might. Each skill pulses with a shockwave of force, pounding the ground like war drums. The world bends around him. His aura erupts. Not rises¡ªerupts. Like a volcano uncorked. Different elemental energy surge from him in every direction, rippling like solar winds. The sheer weight of it smashes against the beast''s oppressive aura... and matches it. The Tier 7 guardian pauses. Its molten eyes narrow. The commanders back away instantly¡ªinstinct overriding pride. "W-What is he doing?!" "That''s not Tier 5 power¡ª" Alix drops to the ground. Hard. The stone cracks beneath his boots. The beast roars¡ªa column of fire screams toward him, powerful enough to incinerate a tier 6 in second. Alix moves. BOOM. He vanishes from sight¡ªinstantaneous. A shockwave trails behind him as he rockets upward, spiraling past the fire with such speed the flames are sucked into his vacuum trail. He slams a glowing palm into the beast''s shoulder from above¡ª BOOM. The guardian stumbles. A Tier 7 beast staggers. The battlefield shakes as Alix lands, boots grinding across scorched rock. Cracks spiderweb out from the point of impact. The heat rolls in waves, blistering, but his cloak doesn''t even ripple. His eyes remain locked on the guardian. The Tier 7 beast snarls, molten saliva hitting the ground with a hiss. Then¡ª Its core flares. Its mane flares out, no longer just fire plasma. The air warps, turning glassy around it. Symbols sear across its forelegs, chest, and jaws, arcane circuits pulsing with crimson light. Then, with a sound like the sky tearing, the beast opens its maw. And howls. "TIER 6 SKILL: SOLAR ROAR." A massive sigil blazes into existence above the beast, rotating slowly¡ªlike a second sun. From it, rays of annihilation lance toward the earth. Each beam could vaporize fortresses, and a dozen rain down across the battlefield, targeting Alix with pinpoint fury. The air superheats. Soldiers scream as heat washes over them despite their distance. Barriers melt. Even Tier 5 commanders are forced to shield themselves and thier units with everything they have. Alix lifts his hand calmly. "TIER 5 SKILL: ARCANE GLACIER." The ground beneath him erupts in a towering wall of ice¡ªbut not normal ice. This is crystallized mana, refracting light like a prism, strengthened by his buffs until it''s nearly unbreakable. The first solar beam crashes into it¡ª BOOOOOOM! The explosion is apocalyptic. A deafening detonation rips through the battlefield, sending a pressure wave that can flattens a huge mountain. Ice shards fly like shrapnel, but Alix is already gone. Above. "TIER 5 SKILL: STORMFALL ASCENT." Wind gathers beneath his boots¡ªreal wind, not summoned, but bent to his will by the raw power of his buffs. He soars upward, dodging a second solar lance by inches. The beam slices the sky like a sword, vaporizing clouds and igniting the upper atmosphere. Alix flips midair. "TIER 5 SKILL: VOLT STRIKE." His fist sparks, charged with thunder and force. He drops like a meteor, his body wrapped in a storm. Lightning crackles across the battlefield as he slams into the beast''s back. KRAKOOOOOM! The impact is catastrophic. The beast howls in agony, thrown off balance as arcs of electricity sear through its molten skin, disrupting the circuits still glowing across its body. The sigil in the sky flickers¡ªbut does not vanish. The guardian whips around, jaws snapping. But Alix is already moving. "TIER 5 SKILL: PYRE SPHERE." A compact orb of red-gold flame swells in his palm¡ªdenser than it has any right to be. Buffed with element-enhancing buff skills, it radiates Tier 7 pressure. He hurls it point-blank into the beast''s eye. BOOOOM! The explosion throws the guardian backward, half-blinding it. Its mane flares wildly, a flare of white-hot plasma trying to incinerate everything around it. Alix raises both hands¡ª "TIER 5 SKILL: EARTHMAW." The ground responds instantly, opening like a beast''s jaw. Twin pillars of stone erupt around the guardian''s legs, slamming together and pinning it mid-lunge. For a split second, the Tier 7 creature is trapped¡ªits own mass straining against the bind. Everyone''s silent. The shock still hangs in the air¡ªraw, palpable. No one dares speak as the battlefield trembles from the echo of Alix''s last blow. Even the wind holds its breath. Then¡ª Brakar leans closer to Lathar, his voice low, still laced with disbelief. "Who would''ve thought he''s this powerful... He''s fighting a Tier 7 beast¡ªand he''s gaining the upper hand." Lathar doesn''t respond immediately. His eyes are locked on Alix, still hovering like a living force of nature above the stunned guardian. His fingers flex slowly at his sides, knuckles tight. Then he says, voice quieter now. "Do you think our decision... to betray Lord Veyrith... was right?" Brakar breathes out hard through his nose, glancing away for a moment as if weighing something heavy. "You know we respect Lord Veyrith," he mutters. "But we''ve been doing this fighting Astram forces like it''s our curse. For how long now? Ten years? Fifteen? How many comrades have we buried? How many brothers have we lost?" Chapter 198 - 200: The Death Of The Tier 7 Beast His voice grows sharper with every word. He looks back at Lathar. "And what did we get? What did any of us get for it? We''re no closer to the peace we all wanted." Lathar says nothing for a long time. Then slowly, as if admitting something he''s never said aloud: "You''re right." Lathar''s jaw tightens as he watches Alix descend once more, his cloak dancing in the heatwaves pouring off the Tier 7 beast. "With Alix''s strength," he says slowly, "we might finally bring peace to our continent." Brakar smirks, faint and dry. "It''s His Majesty Alix now." They both fall silent again, the battlefield trembling with each breath of the monster. --- He lands lightly on a chunk of broken stone, the Tier 7 beast still partially pinned by Earthmaw, snarling and writhing, plasma licking at its bindings. Alix watches the creature, his gaze unwavering. His heart beats steady. His breath even. But his thoughts race. "Even with all my buffs, Tier 5 skills alone... they''re not enough." The realization settles like iron in his chest as he watches the guardian begin to break free¡ªmuscles rippling beneath lava-slick skin, circuits reigniting across its limbs. Its plasma mane flares once again, surging in fury. "I''ll need more. A clean finish. No drawn-out clash. Which means..." Alix''s eyes flash. "It''s time to combine them." He raises both hands, energy gathering between his palms¡ªdifferent than before. Not one skill. Not two side-by-side. But two powers woven together, threads pulled tight through a technique almost no one alive could perform. Dual Casting. The energy in Alix''s hands roils¡ªunstable, brilliant, furious. Dual Casting. The battlefield seems to lean in. "Let''s try this..." he murmurs under his breath. "Tier 5 Skill: Infernal Lance. Tier 5 Skill: Stormpiercer Blade." Flame and lightning spiral into one another, crackling and snarling like wild beasts forced into the same cage. The heat of Infernal Lance, a long, spear-like projectile of hyper-condensed solar flame, clashes violently with the razor precision and velocity of Stormpiercer Blade, a cutting edge of wind and lightning meant to split sky and stone. But Alix doesn''t falter. His hands guide the fusion, forcing them together, layering the offensive matrices, binding their conflicting elemental cores with sheer will and a master''s control over mana channels. Above him, it darkens. Even the Tier 7 beast hesitates¡ªits instincts screaming. A single blade forms in his hands. Not a sword. Not a spear. But something between¡ªlong, jagged, glowing with both internal lightning and external flame. It pulses once, and the entire battlefield winces. The winds howl as if fleeing. Fire bends toward the weapon like a reverent disciple. The air splits around it. Even the commanders watching from afar feel their skin crawl. Brakar grips his chest, stunned. "What... is that?" The Tier 7 beast feels it too. Its instincts shriek¡ªold and primal. That weapon... that technique... is death. But it does not retreat. Instead, it flares. Its molten mane explodes outward in a spiral of burning plasma. Crimson circuits re-etch themselves across its limbs and chest, deeper, brighter, jagged now with desperation. Its eyes blaze white. And then it lifts its head¡ª A guttural howl tears from its throat, shaking the chamber like a collapsing mountain. "TIER 7 SKILL: STARFALL CORE." A burning sigil forms above the beast¡ªno longer golden like the solar sigil, but deep crimson, etched with planetary rings and falling stars. It spins once. The chamber groans. Everything tilts. Gravity reverses for a moment, pulling rocks into the air. The temperature spikes to unholy levels as a condensed orb of collapsing flame¡ªnot explosion, but implosion¡ªforms at the center of the battlefield. The beast channels it down its throat. Alix narrows his eyes. "...So that''s your final card." With a sharp breath, he throws the combined skills. The world breaks. The fusion weapon screams as it slices through the air, and at the same moment¡ª Starfall Core detonates. BLINDING LIGHT. White. Red. Gold. Blue. A collision of two powers no mortal realm should ever contain. The chamber howls like a dying god. Walls fracture. The floor splits in spiderweb patterns. The very air turns dense with pressure as flame and thunder clash with imploding gravity and burning stardust. Screams are torn from throats. Even the commanders¡ªbattle-hardened and blessed with resistances¡ªdrop. Shields shatter. Mana wards crack. And then¡ª A silence. Not peaceful. Vacuum. Empty. Then¡ªBOOM. A second shockwave rips outward, hurling dust, stone, and plasma in every direction. The light fades. The world settles. And slowly¡ªcautiously, everyone begin to blink, coughing, stunned. They find themselves huddled together in the corner of the chamber. A transparent barrier surrounds them, stretching dome-like over a wide radius. Even the broken ground beneath them seems untouched, held together by some greater force. Lathar pushes himself up, arm trembling. Lathar stares. And it hits him. "...Did Alix... save us?" No one speaks at first. Then a young soldier nods slowly, tears running freely down his soot-covered face. "He did. He... He protected all of us." The murmurs start soft. Then grow louder. A man collapses to his knees, overcome. A woman raises her arm in salute, eyes blazing. An Astram commander stands with clenched fists, his voice hoarse. And then¡ª They see him. A silhouette, hovering above the dead beast. The Tier 7 guardian lies motionless, half its body melted and cracked open by the Heavenrend Fang. The fused blade is buried deep in its ruined chest, lightning still flickering faintly along the edge. And above it¡ª Alix. Hovering. Cloak torn and scorched at the hem. Arms at his sides. His body casting a long shadow over the broken colossus below. No halo. No title. Just presence. A single man, against the impossible. And he won. The cheers erupt like a dam breaking. "ALL HAIL HIS MAJESTY ALIX!" "Long live the Sovereign!" "He saved us¡ªall of us!" "Alix! Alix! Alix!" The chamber that once held silence and fear now roars with adoration. It echoes off the shattered walls, growing louder, more unified, until even the wounded lift their voices. Lathar wipes a streak of blood from his cheek, eyes never leaving Alix. "So this... is what it feels like to follow someone who changes the world." Brakar laughs¡ªraw, broken, hopeful. "No more running. No more blind war." He clasps Lathar''s shoulder. "We fight for something now." The ground rumbles. Cracks race across the scorched stone. Columns groan and buckle. Dust rains down from the high ceiling in thick sheets. "What the hell?" a young Ember Claw soldier shouts, stumbling as the chamber tilts. "Woah¡ªwhat is happening?!" Another points to the ceiling as chunks of stone begin to fall. "This whole place is coming down! How are we supposed to get out of here?!" All eyes turn to the man still hovering above the fallen beast. Alix lowers himself slowly, his boots touching down with quiet finality atop the creature''s scorched hide. His eyes flicker over the crowd, calm and unreadable. Then he speaks¡ªloud enough for every soul to hear, even over the chaos of the crumbling chamber. "So..." His voice cuts through the air like a blade. "All of you... are you ready to become my people?" A stunned silence. Then¡ª Lathar steps forward. There is no hesitation. He drops to one knee, his fist pressed to the ground. "I owe you my life, and more. My blade, my battalion, my future¡ªthey''re yours now, Your Majesty." One by one, the soldiers behind him follow. First a few dozen. Then hundreds. A thunderous wave of knees hitting stone. Brakar watches it happen with a quiet, thoughtful look. Then he chuckles and mutters, "Guess there''s no turning back now." He walks to the front of his warband, turns, and drops to one knee beside Lathar. Brakar''s men do the same, hardened warriors bowing their heads without shame. Commander after commander follows¡ªeach of Ember Claw''s leaders falling in line, their loyalty sworn without words. But to the side, the Astram forces remain standing. They shift uncomfortably. Exchange uncertain glances. Whispers pass between them. Some grip their weapons. Some lower their gazes. One commander, tall and gaunt, steps forward. He looks up at Alix, jaw clenched. "We''ve... fought under Astram''s banner for years," he says slowly. "But most of us..." He glances back at his weary soldiers. "We didn''t have a choice but to follow Astram." He kneels. The chamber seems to still for a beat. "Please," he says, voice low. "Accept me. Let me follow you, Your Majesty." It breaks the silence. Another Astram officer follows, then two more. And then the flood begins. Soldiers¡ªtired, lost, uncertain¡ªbegin to kneel one after another. Some do it slowly, unsure. Others drop down with relief, as if a weight has been lifted from their shoulders. They kneel not because they were ordered. They kneel because someone gave them hope. A new chant begins¡ªsofter this time, but no less powerful. The ceiling splits wide above them. But before a single stone can fall, a golden pulse flashes from Alix''s feet¡ªspreading like a ripple across the entire chamber. A second barrier expands outward, solidifying just before impact. The falling rubble bounces harmlessly off the shield and scatters to the sides. Gasps rise from the crowd. Alix lowers his hand. "Then rise, all of you." He looks across the crowd¡ªEmber Claw and Astram both now kneeling as one. "From this moment on," he says, "you no longer serve dying empires. You serve something new." He steps down from the beast''s corpse and onto solid ground. "Follow me," he says. "And I will build a world worth bleeding for." They rise. Alix turns, his eyes scanning the collapsing chamber. The rumble grows louder now¡ªceiling stones crashing, fractures racing up the walls like lightning. The air is thick with dust and heat, and even the strongest among them can feel the weight of impending ruin. Brakar frowns. "Your Majesty, this place isn''t going to last. If it seals again¡ª" "We''ll be trapped," Lathar finishes grimly. Chapter 199 - 201: The Crypt Is Collapsing Panic ripples through the ranks. Some soldiers glance toward the massive, sealed gateway at the back of the chamber¡ªstill closed. No obvious way out. No teleport circles. No escape. But Alix doesn''t flinch. He reaches into his cloak, fingers brushing across something cool and ancient. Then, he pulls it out. A talisman¡ªsimple in shape, but etched with delicate, pulsing runes. It glows faintly in his palm, the light steady even as the world around them trembles. No one speaks. They all stare. "What... is that?" Brakar mutters, eyes narrowing. Alix lifts it so they can see. "This," he says calmly, "is our way out." The air stills. Even the debris seems to hang suspended for a moment. "It''s a teleport talisman," Alix explains, voice carrying clear across the chamber. "One-time use. Designed to carry a group out of sealed realms¡ªif the lock isn''t set by a higher being or something worse." Everyone turns toward Alix, stunned. Murmurs ripple through the crowd like wind through dry grass. "A teleport talisman that can teleport a group?" "Is something like that even exist?..." "Where did he get something like that?" "Did he make it? Or... was it given?" No one speaks louder than a whisper, as if afraid the talisman itself might vanish if they questioned it too much. Alix doesn''t explain further. He simply activates it. The runes on the talisman ignite with golden-blue light, then rise like burning leaves from his palm¡ªswirling upward in a vortex that expands fast. It forms a dome of shifting energy, enveloping every soul within the collapsing chamber. And in the space between one breath and the next¡ª They vanish. The world returns. The air is fresh. The sky is endless blue. A vast stretch of plains greets them¡ªwind rolling over green grasses, wild and unbroken, stretching to the horizon. There are no landmarks. No cities. No walls. Just open land and sky. The soldiers blink. Many fall to their knees, dazed. Some grip the earth as if to convince themselves it''s real. "We''re... outside?" someone breathes. "No wards... no seals..." "It''s just grass." Lathar scans the horizon, hand instinctively on his sword. "Where are we?" Alix, standing at the front, doesn''t look back. He gazes out toward the far distance¡ªhis eyes calm, unreadable. "You''re safe now," he says. "That''s what matters." The wind rustles the grass. The silence holds. Then Alix speaks again. "You''ll wait here. A ten-meter giant will arrive to fetch you. Don''t be alarmed¡ªit''s loyal to me." The soldiers stir. "A... what?" "A giant?!" Brakar lets out a low whistle. " A real giant, you just keep surprising us?" Lathar steps forward, voice cautious. "Ali¡ªI mean, Your Majesty... are you going to...?" Alix turns his head slightly. His voice is calm¡ªquiet, but resolute. "Yes," Alix says. "I''m going to end this." The words fall like iron. The murmurs stop. Even the wind seems to pause. Then he adds, "But if Veyrith is willing to submit... to become my subordinate rather than my enemy¡ªI''ll spare him. That choice is his to make." Lathar clenches his jaw, a flicker of hesitation flashing in his eyes. Then he drops to one knee, head bowed¡ªnot in fealty, but in earnest plea. "Then let me come with you," he says. "I served Lord Veyrith for years. If anyone can reach him... if there''s a chance to change his mind, I''ll find it." Alix watches him quietly for a breath. Then nods once. "Very well." Without another word, Alix lifts into the sky, his cloak trailing behind like a shadow cut from the wind. Lathar follows a beat later, rising with practiced ease, his silhouette streaking into the heavens beside his sovereign. The others watch in silence. --- Deep within the Valgros Kingdom ¨C The Royal Crypt The stone walls quake. Dust rains from the high, arching ceiling as the Crypt groans under its own weight. Pillars¡ªancient and runed¡ªshudder as though the breath of a giant passes through them. King Rewalt stumbles, catching himself against the cold stone. His eyes are wide, frantic. "The seals are destabilizing!" he growls. "We have to stop this¡ªif the tomb collapses¡ª!" Prince Asdri stands at his father''s side. "Father. What is happening?!" Their voices echo, swallowed by the trembling chamber. A moment later, figures rush through the corridor behind them. Mana licks the air like the scent of lightning before a storm. Veyrith, his jaw set and eyes sharp, strides forward with Svira just behind him¡ªher expression unreadable, her gaze flickering across every crumbling sigil like she''s memorizing them. Astram is at the rear, slower, flanked by his loyal men: Carwel, tall and grim-faced, and Tandu, whose eyes flick around warily like a beast ready to pounce. "You''re losing control of the crypt," Astram says flatly. His tone isn''t accusatory¡ªit''s a simple observation, clinical and cold. Rewalt wheels on him. "This tomb is older than my bloodline! You think I''d risk it lightly?! Something''s happening inside." Veyrith halts in the middle of the chamber, his massive frame casting a long shadow in the torchlight. Cracks spiderweb beneath his boots as another tremor shakes the ground. His golden eyes flick toward Rewalt¡ªnarrowed, unreadable. Then, voice low but heavy with weight, Veyrith asks. "What will happen to my people inside... if the Crypt collapses?" The question hangs in the air like a blade. Rewalt hesitates. Just for a breath. Then, he draws in a shaky inhale and answers, "Everyone inside will die... I read that what lies inside the Crypt... is an entire realm unto itself." His voice is brittle now. "A sealed dimension, within the folds of this tomb. If the structure falls¡ªif the seals fracture¡ªthe realm inside will collapse with it. Nothing will survive." The words land like a thunderclap. The air stills. The tremors pause¡ªas if even the Crypt itself is holding its breath. Then, the temperature drops. So fast. So sudden. Frost blooms across the stone in jagged veins. The torchlight dims, flickering wildly. And in a blink¡ªAstram is no longer at the rear. He''s in front of Rewalt. A gust of displaced air ripples outward as the general materializes, hand gripped around the king''s throat, lifting him clean off the ground. Rewalt chokes, his feet dangling inches above the trembling floor. His crown slips, clattering against the stone. Asdri, wanting to act, finds himself frozen in place by Astram''s overwhelming aura. Astram''s voice is low¡ªtoo low for a man so filled with rage. But it carries. Every word a threat carved from iron. "If anything happens to my commanders," he breathes. He leans in, voice colder than the ice curling up the walls. "I will raze your kingdom to the bedrock. I will slaughter your people and burn your cities. Not even your dogs will live." Rewalt gags, struggling against Astram''s grip¡ªbut doesn''t speak. He sees it. This isn''t a bluff. This isn''t theater. This is death¡ªcaged only by the thinnest leash of control. Veyrith steps forward. And the rage in him is no quieter. His crimson aura crackles with furious energy. His great hand curls into a fist at his side, claws grinding against his gauntlet. Veyrith''s voice is like thunder rolling low across a storm-swept plain. "Humans," he growls, glaring down at Rewalt, "you better have a way to stop this from collapsing. Or I''ll let Astram follow through on his promise¡ªand I''ll help him." Svira stands at his side, face like carved stone, her mana already beginning to shimmer subtly around her fingers. Rewalt wheezes as Astram finally loosens his grip, letting the king crumple to one knee. The old man coughs, then raises his eyes¡ªstill wide, but not pleading. Determined. "I do," Rewalt gasps. "I do have a way... But I need your help." He pulls something from within his robes¡ªa shard of dark crystal shaped like a jagged fang, pulsing faintly with sigils. As he raises it, the air around it hums, reacting to the mana in the chamber. "This is the key," Rewalt says. "It was forged with the original seal. It can stabilize the internal realm... if we can infuse it with enough raw power." Another tremor rocks the chamber, more violent this time¡ªa crack shoots across the floor, slicing between Veyrith''s feet. Rewalt continues, louder now. "But I can''t do it alone. Not even close. I need all of you¡ªchannel your mana into the key. With Veyrith and Astram''s power, with your subordinates¡ªall of you being Tier 6 or higher¡ªwe might be able to hold it together." "Might?" Astram echoes, his tone sharp. "That''s not good enough." "It''s the only chance we''ve got!" Rewalt snaps, finally showing a flash of fire in his voice. "We either try¡ªor everyone inside dies. Including your soldiers, your people!" A silence settles again. The kind that tests men. Tandu steps forward beside Astram, his fingers already crackling with shadow-bound energy. "Say the word, my lord," he says quietly. Carwel just nods, expression unreadable, but mana already rising from his skin like smoke. Astram exhales slowly. Rage still burns behind his gaze¡ªbut he turns, just slightly, to glance at Veyrith. The beastkin lord meets his eyes. And nods once. "Fine," Astram mutters. "But if this fails¡ª" "It won''t," Veyrith cuts in. Then, he steps forward, planting himself beside Rewalt and the key. The ground trembles again, and this time, the cracks start climbing the walls¡ªthreads of ruin etching toward the ceiling. Rewalt shouts over the rumble, "Now! Channel it! Focus your mana into the crystal!" One by one, the others step forward. Veyrith places his palm near the shard, his crimson aura flaring around him like a rising sun. Svira follows, fingers weaving intricate signs that direct her essence in clean, precise lines. Astram steps in next, arms crossed but power surging from his very skin, raw and cold. Carwel. Tandu. All of them. Chapter 200 - 202: The True Strength Of The King Minutes of focused silence, of gritted teeth and white-hot energy surging into the pulsing shard. Mana floods the air¡ªso thick it''s hard to breathe. The stone chamber becomes a crucible, light flaring brighter with every passing second as the crystal absorbs the full brunt of Tier 6 power. Sweat beads on Rewalt''s brow. His lips move¡ªancient syllables, a stabilizing chant passed down through centuries. The sigils on the walls begin to shift, threads of light knitting back into broken wards. The tremors slow. The cracking walls groan, then... still. The crypt stabilizes. A breathless moment passes. No one moves. Rewalt finally lets out a long exhale and slumps forward slightly, catching himself on one hand. "It''s... done," he murmurs. Veyrith straightens, but doesn''t relax. His golden eyes bore into Rewalt. "What now?" he asks. "Where are they? You said once the crypt was stabilized, they''d be teleported out." Rewalt blinks. "Yes. That''s what should happen. They should start appearing." But a minute passes. Then another. The air remains still. No one appears. No surge of light. No shimmer of displaced air. Nothing. Astram''s eyes narrow. he says coldly, " Why haven''t I seen my commanders yet?" Rewalt opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He looks toward the sealed altar in the far end of the chamber, then back at the shard¡ªstill glowing faintly, now pulsing much slower. "I... I don''t know," Rewalt admits, his voice almost breaking. "It should''ve worked. Unless¡ªunless something interfered." Astram takes a step forward. Carwel and Tandu do the same. Asdri grabs his father''s arm instinctively. "Father?" Rewalt turns to him quickly, urgently¡ªvoice low, fast, almost a whisper. "Asdri, listen to me," he says. "If any of them start attacking...I will activate the kingdom''s Tier 6 defensive array. It will buy you enough time to run." "Run?" Asdri''s voice cracks. "Where? You can''t mean¡ª" "There''s a portal chamber hidden behind the ancestral altar," Rewalt says, gripping his son''s arm tightly. "It''s connected to an unknown continent. Far from here." "No. I''m not leaving you." Asdri shakes his head. "We can fight together. We can fix this¡ª" Rewalt''s gaze sharpens, even as his hands tremble. "Asdri, promise me," he says. "If I die here¡ªif our kingdom falls¡ªI want you to survive. And when you do... take revenge." Asdri''s lips part, but no words come. "I''ve watched you grow," Rewalt says, softer now. "And I know you''ll surpass even them. One day. But not if you die here." "What are you two whispering about?" Astram''s voice cuts through the tension like a dagger through silk. Cold. Sharp. Unmistakably dangerous. Rewalt straightens¡ªbut before he can answer¡ª Astram vanishes. "Asdri!" Rewalt roars. "NOW!!" The ground shakes. A tremor, violent and thunderous, ripples through the floor and up the walls of the ancient crypt. Outside, the entire capital city of Valgros begins to tremble, as if the earth itself is waking from a long and bitter sleep. Then¡ªthe towers ignite. Three mage towers, positioned in a vast triangle around the kingdom''s heart, flare to life. Their spires pulse with arcane energy, each beam of magic shooting skyward before curving inward, forming a dome of flickering light above the city. Arcane glyphs spin in the air around them. Circles upon circles. Ancient and precise. A boom like a divine drumbeat shakes the air as the three towers sync. Pillars of raw mana crash downward in thick beams of brilliant energy, targeting the crypt''s outer walls¡ªnot to destroy, but to contain. Rewalt spreads his arms wide, his voice rising in a roar as he calls on the towers. "You monsters think you''re above us!" His voice rings with fury, desperation, and pride. "You think because we have no Tier 6s, we''re defenseless?! This is my kingdom! You will not break it without a fight!" He slams his palm into the ground. A pulse of mana erupts from him, linking with the towers. The glyphs around his body shimmer, forming a living diagram between him and the three colossal arcane constructs outside. The very air grows heavy. Astram appears again, mid-air this time, weaving between the falling tower beams¡ªtoo fast to follow. The mage towers adjust, tracking him like divine sentinels. Their beams curve unnaturally, bending space, tearing across the sky like god-forged whips. Astram narrows his eyes and spins through a midair glyph strike¡ªhe barely avoids one tower''s piercing beam, but a second tower locks on, launching a spiral of burning sigils that detonate midair. The shockwave knocks him back, ice forming in the wake of his movement. "Its impressive that your kingdom have something like this," Astram snarls, landing in a crouch. "But it''ll take more than toys to kill me." Rewalt lifts both arms, blood running from his nose now. His voice is raw. "I know this won''t be enough to kill the two of you, but your subordinates won''t be as lucky," he growls. All three towers converge their beams into a singular point¡ªaimed not at Astram, but at the heart of the crypt itself. A containment field blossoms, mana walls folding over one another like massive petals of glowing steel. He doesn''t wait. Doesn''t warn. Doesn''t hesitate. In a blink, a spear of condensed arcane energy forms in his hand, shaped like jagged crystal and charged with the fury of the towers above. He hurls it forward with terrifying precision¡ªnot at Astram, but at Carwel and Tandu. Carwel reacts first¡ªhis hand comes up in a fluid motion, a barrier of fire forming just in time to catch the incoming spear. It shatters on impact, but the force sends him skidding backward across the stone, boots carving trenches in the floor. Tandu darts forward, eyes flashing. "He''s turning on us!" he snarls, and leaps into the air, a huge war axe in his hands. Rewalt raises both hands. From the ceiling, a dozen beams of light crash down¡ªeach one tracking Tandu like celestial spears. Carwel curses under his breath. "Damn using the towers like an extension of his body¡ªhe''s synced with the whole city!" Tandu vanishes in a flash, reappearing just behind Rewalt, axe raised to strike¡ª But Rewalt smiles. A glyph flares beneath Tandu''s feet¡ªhidden until now. "Tier 5 skill: Mirror Reversal." There''s a flash of pure light, and Tandu is launched backward, crashing into a pillar as his own attack is redirected into his gut. He groans, smoke rising from his armor. "I told you," Rewalt breathes, arcane lines glowing up his arms. "This kingdom is built on blood and preparation." Astram steps forward, cold fury in his eyes. The temperature in the crypt plummets¡ªfrost begins to bloom along the edges of the stone walls, creeping like veins of white death. "Human," he says, voice low and seething with power. "After I kill you... I will freeze this city to its bones. Not a soul will remain warm enough to scream." Rewalt rises to his full height, unflinching. "Then I die standing. And you''ll remember that." Without warning, Astram lifts a hand. The frost surges outward like a crashing tide. "Tier 5 Skill: Cryo Lance." A spear of pure ice forms in the air, whirling with jagged shards. It tears through the space between them in an instant¡ªbut Rewalt twists aside, barely dodging, the spear carving through stone behind him like paper. He retaliates, palm flashing¡ªglyphs swirl outward as one of the tower beams answers his call. A massive arcane blast roars toward Astram, radiant gold laced with silver lightning. Astram lifts both arms. "Tier 5 Skill: Permafrost Bastion." A wall of translucent ice erupts from the ground¡ªthicker than a castle gate, its surface glowing with runes. The tower blast crashes into it, but doesn''t break through. Cracks form¡ªbut the wall holds. Rewalt doesn''t hesitate¡ªhe teleports behind it mid-cast. "Tier 4: Spatial Shift." Astram spins to meet him¡ªbut Rewalt is faster, thanks to the three tower buffing his peak tier 5 strength. His fist, wreathed in energy, crashes into Astram''s ribs. The impact sends a wave of kinetic force outward, cracking the floor and knocking both Carwel and Tandu back down. Astram grunts¡ªhe''s hurt. Not badly, but surprised. Rewalt follows up¡ªanother glyph lights under his foot and arcs to the ceiling. "Tier 5 Skill: Heavenfall Array!" Dozens of radiant bolts rain from above, each one honed by the towers'' power, guided like missiles. They all home in on Astram. Astram lifts his hand again, cold light swirling around him. "Tier 5 Skill: Glacial Nova." With a flick of his wrist, a blast of cold explodes outward. The bolts freeze mid-flight, halted inches before impact¡ªthen fall to the ground in shattered fragments of golden frost. Rewalt charges through the mist. His sword manifests in his hand¡ªa blade forged of condensed tower energy, humming with layered glyphs. He slashes. Astram blocks with his forearm¡ªice encases it mid-swing¡ªbut the blade cuts through halfway before stopping. Blood stains the frost. Astram snarls. "Enough." "Then fall," Rewalt spits. They clash again. Fist meets blade. Glyph meets frost. Firestorms erupt from defensive spells. Ice rains from the ceiling as Astram tries to summon a local storm. The walls of the crypt tremble with every impact, runes flaring and dimming in rapid succession. The mage towers groan. Their beams sputter. One of them¡ªthe eastern one¡ªdims slightly. The field over the capital flickers. Rewalt stumbles. His breath is ragged. His face pale. The glowing lines across his arms are flickering now¡ªunstable. Astram notices. "You''re burning through the towers'' reserves," he says coldly. "You won''t last much longer." "I don''t need to," Rewalt growls, raising his hands again. Another beam slams into Astram¡ªbut this one only scorches his cloak. Astram wipes away the embers. Then he exhales, and the air howls. "Enough games. I gave you the honor of dying as my enemy. Now you die like the rest." Chapter 201 - 203: The King Is Dead He raises both arms. The air around him freezes solid¡ªthen shatters into dust as magic surges. "Tier 6 Skill: Absolute Silence." The world blinks. Rewalt''s ears pop¡ªsound vanishes. Then, from every corner of the room, ice spears form out of nothing. A dome of frozen death collapses inward, completely silent. The very concept of sound is removed from the space. Rewalt''s eyes widen. He tries to summon the towers again, but the glyphs on his arms shatter like glass. One of the towers flickers¡ªthen dies. He raises his sword one last time. The ice spears pierce him from all sides. His body jerks¡ªonce. Blood splashes the frost. The towers fall silent. Astram exhales, and sound returns like a roaring vacuum. Rewalt crumples forward, the light fading from his eyes, one hand still reaching toward the altar¡ªas if trying to push Asdri away. Astram stands over the fallen king. Astram looks down at Rewalt''s lifeless form, his eyes cold and unfeeling. He raises his head, his gaze sweeping across the room, the power of the Tier 6 skill still lingering in the air. His voice is low, dripping with contempt and anticipation. "Next," he says, turning to face Tandu and Carwel, "let''s destroy this kingdom." Tandu, his armor scorched and dented from the earlier battle, grins wickedly. His eyes flash with excitement. "Yes, Lord Astram. It will be... a pleasure." Carwel steps forward, his fiery aura still burning hot, though his expression is colder than usual. "We''ve already broken the heart of this kingdom. Now let''s shatter the rest of it." Astram smirks, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. He takes a step toward the door, his presence overwhelming. The air around him grows even colder, frost creeping up the walls. But before he moves, Veyrith steps into his path, blocking his path. Astram''s eyes narrow. "What is it, Veyrith?" he asks, his voice sharper than ever. Veyrith stands tall, his expression unreadable. He doesn''t move or flinch, though his tone carries a heavy weight. "Astram," he begins, his voice calm but filled with years of unspoken pain, "do you really need to kill all these innocent humans? They''ve done nothing to us." Astram''s lip curls in disdain, the air around him growing even colder. "Why not?" he sneers. "They''re just humans, Veyrith. Weak, fragile, nothing more than pests. And right now, I''m in a bad mood. I need to vent it, and they''re the closest thing to a target." He steps forward, but Veyrith doesn''t budge, his gaze steady. "Is that really the reason? You''d destroy them all just to release your anger? You''ve been at this for years, are you not tired?" Astram pauses, his expression hardening. "What are you talking about?" His voice is low and dangerous. Veyrith''s eyes flicker with an emotion that''s hard to place¡ªsorrow, perhaps, or resignation. "I''ve seen it all, Astram. Your endless quest for destruction. Your desire to burn everything down. But it''s time, don''t you think? Time for us to end this fight¡ªfor the lives we''ve taken, for the people we''ve lost... for the destruction we''ve caused." Suddenly, light streaks through the shattered remains of the crypt''s ceiling. Two figures descend. One cloaked in dusky silver, eyes sharp as moonlight¡ªAlix. The other armored in deep blue, his lance strapped across his back¡ªLathar. They land at the far end of the chamber, the wind from their descent scattering frost and ash. Silence floods the space again, this time tinged with tension. Veyrith turns sharply, his eyes widening as he sees them. For a second, his composure breaks. "...Alix? Lathar?" he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "You''re alive?" His breath catches in his throat. The disbelief slowly gives way to something else. Relief. "How did you two survive? Are... are you the only ones left?" Alix doesn''t answer immediately. He steps forward, calm and poised, his eyes gliding over Astram''s blood-soaked form, the frozen remains of Rewalt, then back to Veyrith. But before he can speak, Astram''s voice cuts in¡ªsharp, commanding. "Where are my commanders?" Astram demands, his voice echoing with icy fury. Lathar steps forward. His tone is formal, steady. "Lord Veyrith," Lathar says, his voice firm but respectful. "I came here to tell you something... Everyone¡ªincluding Astram''s commanders¡ªare already under His Majesty Alix''s banner." Veyrith''s expression twists in confusion. "What?" he breathes. Across the room, Svira recoils like she''d been slapped. "What are you saying, Lathar?!" she snaps, fury flashing in her voice. "Are you out of your mind? And why are you calling him His Majesty?" Lathar sighs, running a hand through his hair. The weight of everything they''ve been through sits heavy in his voice. "I''ll explain," he says quietly. "Something went wrong inside the crypt. Terribly wrong. The entire place tried to erase us." His eyes flick to Veyrith, earnest. "If it wasn''t for his majesty, none of us would''ve made it out." Astram scoffs¡ªmocking and cold. "Do you hear yourself?" he says. "Are you saying my commanders betrayed me? You expect me to believe that?" Lathar''s voice tightens as the memory surfaces. "He didn''t just fight alongside us¡ªhe saved us. The crypt awakened something. Something ancient. A Tier 7 monstrosity buried deep in its heart. It wasn''t just a trap¡ªit was a purge. One meant to kill everything inside." Astram scoffs, the sound sharp and disbelieving. "You''re telling me," he says slowly, "that this guy killed a Tier 7?" He turns his gaze on Alix, contempt flickering behind his icy eyes. "That this is the one you now serve?" Carwel spits to the side. "Ridiculous." Tandu laughs¡ªshort and ugly. "That thing inside would''ve annihilated even us. There''s no way a all of you will walked out alive." Astram''s lips curl. "And you''re saying my commanders... betrayed me? Just like that?" "They saw the truth," Lathar says. "The kind of leader they wanted to follow. One who stood between us and certain death, even when he didn''t have to." Alix finally steps forward, his presence unnaturally calm amidst the storm of disbelief and fury swirling in the chamber. His cloak rustles lightly, untouched by the chill. "I suppose I should introduce myself properly," he says, his voice smooth, clear, yet carrying a quiet weight that stills even the breathing in the room. "You''re all here to help this human king, right? To annihilate his enemies." His gaze lowers, falling upon the crumpled corpse of King Rewalt. There''s no emotion in his face¡ªjust cold observation. "I guess you already handled that part," he says dryly. "But it doesn''t matter." His eyes lift again, and this time his aura surges. Thick, oppressive. Ancient. "Because you''re still my enemies," he says. "Which means... I''ll have to kill you." The room tenses¡ªSvira steps back instinctively. Even Astram subtly shifts his footing. But then Alix raises one hand slowly, palm open toward them. "That said," he continues, almost casually, "if you join me¡ªpledge yourselves fully and prove your loyalty¡ªI might give you what you''ve always wanted." A flick of mana dances at his fingertips. "Power," he says simply. "Strength. A path to Tier 7." Tandu stiffens slightly. He leans toward Astram, whispering just loud enough for his voice to carry. "My lord, I remember now... That''s the one we told you about. Even when he has only Tier 5 strength... his aura¡ªit was heavier than ours. That''s why we retreated back then." Astram''s jaw tightens. Veyrith narrows his eyes. "Wait. What do you mean... achieve Tier 7?" he asks, voice slow, wary. Alix glances at him. "Isn''t that why you came here?" he says. "The Tier 7 skill book hidden in this crypt. That''s what you were all chasing, wasn''t it?" There''s a pause¡ªjust a breath. Then four books materialize in Alix''s hand. Not scrolls. Not illusions. Books. Bound in strange, otherworldly materials, each pulsing faintly with layered magical circles far too complex to be Tier 6. The pressure they emit is suffocating¡ªlike the presence of gods watching from a mountaintop. "Unfortunately," Alix says softly, "you were never going to find it. The crypt has already been destroyed." Carwel''s eyes widen. Svira actually gasps. Even Tandu''s grin slips. Astram¡ªhe takes half a step forward before catching himself. His eyes fixate on the books like a starving man eyeing meat. But he stops. Because even he knows... Someone who can casually display four Tier 7 skill books in front of a group of elite monsters without fear? That''s no ordinary monster. Astram''s thoughts race. ''A descendant of a royal bloodline in the main continent? A hidden heir from one of the main continent''s superpowers? Maybe even... a son of a Tier 7 powerhouse?'' His gaze locks with Alix''s, searching for an answer. But Alix''s face reveals nothing. Veyrith breaks the silence again. "And... what do you want from us in return?" Alix''s eyes turn to him, unreadable. His voice drops slightly, darker now¡ªlike a blade being drawn. "Prove yourselves," he says. "Stand with me, or stand against me. I won''t ask again." Veyrith''s voice cuts through the silence, low but urgent. "Are you sure... all my commanders and soldiers are safe?" Lathar nods firmly, stepping closer to him. "They''re safe, Lord Veyrith. I give you my word. Alix made sure of it. Every one of them made it out alive." Veyrith exhales, a tension in his shoulders easing, even if only slightly. Then, without warning, Astram speaks. "I will join you." The words drop like a hammer. Lathar blinks, stunned. "What?" Even Veyrith turns, eyes narrowing with disbelief. "You... will?" Astram doesn''t hesitate. "On two conditions," he says calmly. "First¡ªI retain command of my own commanders. Second¡ªI continue to rule over my land in Caeland Continent." Lathar shoots a glance at Alix, as if trying to gauge his reaction. Veyrith''s expression is unreadable, but his eyes are sharp, wary. Chapter 202 - 204: Conquer The Entire Caeland Continent Alix tilts his head slightly, as if pondering it for a moment. His voice is composed, but his words are deliberate. "I can agree to your first request," he says. "You''ll command your forces." Astram nods once, accepting. Alix''s gaze sharpens. "But for your second request..." He pauses, voice hardening. "I want the two of you¡ªyou and Veyrith¡ªto join forces. Conquer the entire Caeland Continent. Together." The room stills again. Veyrith''s eyes flick toward Astram, then back to Alix. His brow furrows, tension rising in his jaw. "You already know our history," Veyrith says tightly. "We''ve warred for generations. I don''t think our forces can work together¡ªpeacefully. There''s too much blood between us." Alix steps forward slowly, each footfall deliberate. His presence grows heavier, colder. "That''s not my problem," he says, voice low. "If you become mine¡ªtruly mine¡ªthen fighting each other will be considered treason." His eyes glow faintly now, a crimson pulse beneath the silver hue. "And treason, under me, is punishable by death." Silence. Veyrith stares at him for a long moment, searching for any sign of bluff. But Alix''s expression remains unreadable. Not cruel, not angry. Just... resolute. Astram, too, watches carefully. He doesn''t argue. He just nods¡ªonce, slow. Veyrith follows suit a heartbeat later, his own nod short and reluctant. Alix lifts one hand. A shimmer of power spirals around his fingers, and then¡ªsnap¡ªa solid scroll materializes in his grasp. No, not a scroll. A parchment formed from strange, blackened fibers laced with threads of living mana. Runes glow faintly across its surface, shifting as though alive. "This," Alix says, holding it out, "is a contract." He steps closer, offering it between them. "You''ll write your names here¡ªboth of you. As long as you don''t betray me, or scheme against everyone under me, you''ll be fine. But if you do..." He taps the page once. "...your hearts will explode, and you''ll die. Instantly. No exceptions." A beat of silence passes. Astram was shocked. "An item like that exist?" Still, both reach for the parchment. Astram slashes his name first, the ink forming of his own mana, binding immediately to the contract''s edge. Veyrith watches him, then breathes out slowly and does the same. The moment the second name is etched, the contract glows once¡ªblue, then red¡ªbefore fading into Alix''s hand and vanishing into motes of light. A hush settles. Like the air itself is holding its breath. Alix simply nods once. "Good," he says. "Now go. Return to your lands. Consolidate your forces. Also I will send my own army to help you." Astram tilts his head, a glimmer of curiosity in his eye. "And if we succeed?" Alix meets his gaze without hesitation. "Then I''ll give you something even stronger than those books," he says. "I''ll show you what lies beyond Tier 7." Neither Veyrith nor Astram reply. But neither of them look away. ------ The next day, Caeland Continent Whispers spread like wildfire across Caeland. In the northern highlands, deep within the territory of the fanged clans, a wyvern-kin elder murmurs to his kin, "Something''s happened. Word is... the two greatest warlords¡ªAstram and Veyrith¡ªare now allies." His younger kin laughs, sharp and skeptical. "That''s impossible. They''ve been trying to gut each other for centuries." But the elder only narrows his eyes. "It''s not a rumor. I heard it from a scout who saw their banners flying side by side." In one of Astram''s cities¡ªa volcanic basin lined with blackstone roads and flickering red lamps¡ªa group of beastkin adventurers gather around a tavern table. The air buzzes with disbelief and speculation. "Hey," one of them, a bear-like brute with twin axes strapped to his back, leans forward. "You hear what happened yesterday?" "What?" a horned lizardkin replies, gnawing on a bone. "That another border town got flattened?" "No," the bearkin says, shaking his head. "Lord Astram... he abolished slavery." The lizardkin stops chewing. "...What?" "I''m serious," the bearkin says. "No more slave markets. No more collars. His soldiers are even protecting goblin farmers from bandits now. It''s like they''ve been¡ª" He frowns, trying to find the word. "¡ªreborn." A feline rogue nearby hisses, "Tch. Bullshit. Astram? The same guy who used to execute deserters by boiling their bones? Why would he change?" The bearkin shrugs. "Don''t ask me. But I was in Barvahl city two days ago. Saw it with my own eyes. The slave pens are shut. Soldiers are walking in patrol lines, but they''re... not hurting anyone. Just standing guard. It''s weird." The day after, a new declaration News hits like thunder across the Caeland Continent. From jagged peaks to fetid marshlands, the message echoes: Astram and Veyrith have declared themselves vassals to a king. Not a warlord. Not a chieftain. A king. And not just that¡ª Their proclamation is simple and terrifying: "This continent will be ours. Surrender now... or we come to take it by force." In the trading city of Craghollow, nestled at the edge of the central wastelands, a crowd gathers in the market square. Dozens of monsterfolk¡ªgnolls, ogres, ogresses, serpentkin, troll-bloods¡ªall stare at the projection hovering in the air. A magical illusion of Astram and Veyrith standing side by side, cloaked in ceremonial black and crimson, the announcement booming with terrifying calm. A grizzled minotaur mercenary scowls, arms crossed. "Under a king, huh? The hell is this? Since when do those two bow to anyone?" "Did you hear the tone in Astram''s voice?" a kobold war-mage mutters. "Cold. Controlled. Like he didn''t even want to say it¡ªjust had to." "They said his name," a cloaked naga murmurs nearby. "Alix. The king of another continent. That''s who they serve now." A dry chuckle comes from a frost ogre leaning against a wall. "If Astram and Veyrith both bowed, this king must be something else." "Doesn''t matter what he is," the minotaur growls. "He''s coming for us. We need to act." Later, in a hidden cave deep within the spine-ridge mountains, seven banners are raised. Seven tribes, seven factions¡ªbeastlords, mutant swarms, insect hives, blood cults, and wild sovereigns¡ªhave formed an uneasy alliance. They sit around a stone table, rough-hewn and reeking of old blood. "The moment they said surrender or be crushed," spits a winged reaver, "I knew we had no choice. We fight." AThe Mantiskin Queen clicks her mandibles. "Their strength is greater than ours. But our numbers are ten times theirs. If we strike fast¡ªtake out the Ember Claw''s forward army before it consolidates¡ª" "We die," interrupts an old troll shaman. "You don''t understand what we''re facing. Astram and Veyrith were enough of a problem. But now? They follow a king who makes them bow." The reaver snarls. "So what? We run? Hide like moleworms in the dirt?" "No," says a deep, gravelly voice from the far end of the table. It belongs to a war chief clad in plated obsidian armor. His tusks are jagged, his eyes glowing with purple fire. "We fight. But not blindly. We unite. The only chance we have... is together." A tense silence falls. One by one, the leaders nod. Meanwhile, in a ruined outpost near the coast, a scout limps back into camp, bloodied and wide-eyed. "I saw them," she gasps. "The Ember Claw vanguard. Marching with Astram''s black blades and Veyrith''s flame beasts. Hundreds of thousands of them." A general steps forward, fists clenched. "How far out?" "Four days. Maybe less. They''re not waiting." ---- In Alix''s private chamber, the chamber is quiet. Cool light from the evening moon filters through crystalline glass slats above, casting long, angular shadows across obsidian walls. Braziers flicker with steady blue flame, illuminating the polished stone floor. A faint hum of magic resonates around the room¡ªsubtle, but constant. Familiar. Alix stands alone before the floating screen. Silver eyes reflecting the data glowing just inches from his face. Alix Level: 500 Population: 20,678,086 Required for Next Level: 30,000,000 Gold Coins: 300,090,637 His expression is calm, but thoughtful. "...Fourteen million," he murmurs, folding his arms. "That''s where I was just three days ago." He tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing. "And now... over twenty million." His voice is quiet, almost like he''s thinking aloud rather than speaking to anyone in particular. "Astram''s territory. Veyrith''s. Absorbed into my dominion... and just like that, six million more under my banner." He exhales through his nose¡ªnot a sigh, but something close. The numbers shift slightly as the screen flickers, updating in real time. He doesn''t look surprised by the influx of gold either. "Gold jumped too. Over a hundred and thirty million now," he mutters. "They offered plenty... though I couldn''t exactly bleed them dry. Still, they gave more than enough." A slow smile tugs at the corner of his mouth¡ªbrief, faint, gone almost as soon as it comes. "At this rate..." Alix steps forward, the screen following him like a loyal spirit. "A few more cities fall. A few more banners raised. And I''ll reach thirty million." He taps his finger gently against the air, scrolling down to a hidden panel only he can access. [Level Progression Locked ¨C Awaiting Population Milestone] "I''ll hit level 600." Alix lowers his hand, letting the glowing screen linger in front of him. The numbers pulse, like a heartbeat. His eyes settle on the golden icon at the bottom right¡ªRevival Protocol ¨C Bonepiercers Legion. He exhales, thoughtful. Then speaks aloud, calmly, as if confirming a decision he''s already made. "Now... with this much gold, I should be able to revive at least half of the total number of Bonepiercers." He pauses, fingers moving through the interface, calculation flickering across his gaze. "There were three hundred thousand of them originally." He narrows his eyes. "So that means... one hundred and fifty thousand." His voice is quiet, matter-of-fact. "That''s what I''ll bring back."