The morning light creeps through the heavy curtains, stabbing straight into Velira's skull. She groans, rolling over and dragging the blanket over her head. Her temples pound in rhythm with her heartbeat.

"Ugh… feels like my head's splitting," she mutters, voice hoarse. "I really shouldn't have drunk that much last night."

She forces herself to sit up, her hair sticking in tangled strands against her cheek. The room sways for a moment, the faint scent of wine still clinging to her breath.

A sudden knock rattles the door. Before Velira can even answer, it opens, and a young maid steps inside with a hurried curtsy. "Young lady, the lord is looking for you."

Velira blinks, trying to focus on the girl through the haze. "…Right now?"

"Yes, my lady. He said it's urgent."

Velira sighs, rubbing her eyes. "Alright… I'll go. Just… give me a minute to make myself look like I didn't spend the night at the bottom of a wine barrel."

The maid hides a small smile and bows again. "Of course, my lady." She slips back out, closing the door softly behind her.

Velira swings her legs over the side of the bed, stretching until her joints pop. The chill of the stone floor against her bare feet pulls her a little more into the waking world. She glances toward the mirror on the vanity—her reflection stares back with smudged eyeliner and a faint scowl.

"…Perfect," she mutters dryly, grabbing the water basin to splash her face before heading toward the wardrobe.

Velira fastens her cloak loosely over her shoulders, not bothering to hide the faint redness in her eyes. The headache still gnaws at her, but she pushes it aside.

The corridors of the manor are cool and dim, sunlight spilling in only where tall windows cut through the stone walls. Servants move briskly out of her way, bowing as she passes. She catches a few sidelong glances—word of her late-night drinking probably spread faster than she could sober up.

At the end of the hall, two guards in Ashedge armor stand before a set of carved oak doors. They nod in greeting, one pushing the door open for her.

Inside, her father, Velkain, stands behind a broad desk strewn with maps, letters, and half-drained cups of tea. His armor is set aside on a rack in the corner, but the deep lines on his face look heavier than any metal.

He doesn't look up right away. Instead, he finishes marking a route on the map with a piece of charcoal, his jaw set tight.

Velkain finally stops, setting the charcoal down. When he looks at his daughter, the stern weight in his features softens. There's warmth in his eyes—warmth only she has ever been able to draw out of him. Velira is his only child. Her mother could bear no more after her, and though Velkain once longed for a son to inherit the Ashedge Clan, he long ago accepted—and now takes pride—that Velira will succeed him.

In truth, she's already done more for the clan than he had at her age.

A faint smile tugs at his lips. "When did my princess become a drunkard?"

Velira pouts, folding her arms. "That will be my last. I feel horrible right now."

Velkain steps around the desk, his boots heavy on the stone floor. "Are you still mad at me?"

She hesitates, eyes flicking away. Silence stretches between them before she mutters, "Well… not anymore. Just a little bit, I guess."

He exhales through his nose, a short, amused breath, and places a calloused hand on her shoulder. "Then we'll work on making that 'little bit' disappear."

Velira tilts her head, studying him. "Okay, Father… I know you didn't call me here just for that."

Velkain nods once. "That's right. You know the Yosha Kingdom is the next target of the monsters, don't you?"

Her brow furrows. "I've heard."

"We need to aid them," Velkain says, his voice firm. "I'm sending a hundred thousand soldiers—with you leading them. Two Tier 6 will accompany you."

Velira blinks, taken aback. "Father, is that… really okay? A hundred thousand is a lot. And those two—" she hesitates, lowering her voice, "—they're Tier 6. They'll only listen to you, not me."

Velkain's expression hardens, but there's pride behind it. "Don't underestimate your popularity, Velira. Your merit to this clan is greater than mine has ever been."

She shifts uncomfortably. "You're exaggerating."

"I'm not." His tone leaves no room for argument. "Let them see what the next leader of the Ashedge Clan is capable of."

Velira straightens slightly, the weight of his words settling on her shoulders. "…Alright. I'll prove you right."

-----

In the Yosha Kingdom, the streets are chaos. Merchants abandon their stalls, families drag carts of belongings, and soldiers shout orders over the din. The air stinks of smoke and fear.

In the war council hall, a map of the kingdom covers the table. Three-quarters of it is shaded in black ink—the territory already taken by the monsters. The red lines marking the front keep shrinking every day.

A grizzled Yoshan general slams his fist against the table. "They've already crossed the Sorren Plains. At this pace, the capital will be surrounded in less than a week."

Another officer, his armor dented and dusty from the front lines, shakes his head. "We only managed to slow them down because reinforcements started arriving. Without them, the kingdom would've fallen days ago."

An older noble leans forward, his voice trembling. "And you're certain more help is coming? We cannot hold without it."

A scout steps in, saluting. "Messengers report the Ashedge Clan has dispatched a hundred thousand soldiers, led by Lord Velkain's daughter. Two Tier 6 generals accompany her."

The room stirs with murmurs.

"Velira Ashedge?" the grizzled general asks, narrowing his eyes. "I've heard of her."

A general frowns. "She's good, but can she command forces of that size? Especially with Tier 6 under her?"

The noble waves a hand impatiently. "Good or not, we need every sword we can get. Pray she gets here before the monsters push through the next line."

The murmurs fade when the king, who has been silent until now, finally speaks. His voice is calm but heavy.

"Tell me… is the Ashedge Clan the only one from the top ten forces under the empire that has sent reinforcements?"

The room goes quiet. No one dares answer until the Tier 6 marshal steps forward, his expression grim.

"Yes, Your Majesty. The Tous Kingdom hasn't sent a single soldier. Even the Empire itself remains silent."

The king exhales slowly, his shoulders sinking. "Even in a time like this… they still think only of preserving their own strength."

The marshal's lips curl in bitterness. "They must believe that those of us ranked below the top ten are enough to bleed the monsters dry… and when we've been ground down to nothing, that's when they'll move."

A general clenches his fists. "So they're using us as a wall… a disposable shield."

The king closes his eyes for a brief moment, then straightens in his seat. "Then we'll be a wall they can't break. If the others wish to move only when it benefits them, let them. The Yosha Kingdom will stand with those who choose to fight now."

The marshal bows his head. "Yes, Your Majesty."

-----

The city of Deksa burns. Smoke coils into the sky, blotting out the sun. The screams of civilians mix with the clash of steel and the roar of collapsing walls. Water crashes through the streets in rushing torrents, skills from the Watervale Clan, their soldiers using wave after wave to shield the fleeing people.

"Keep moving! Don't stop for anything!" a Watervale captain shouts, his voice hoarse. He swings his trident, releasing a burst of pressurized water that smashes a hulking monster into a wall. The creature crumples, but more pour through the shattered gates.

The city is lost—everyone knows it. Now, the only goal is escape.

A noblewoman in a torn gown stumbles toward the evacuation line, clutching a crying child. A Watervale soldier catches her before she falls, pulling both toward the waiting carts. "Go! The last convoy leaves in three minutes!"

Across the square, the true predators arrive.

Karnessa stands at the forefront—tall, horned, and wrapped in blackened armor that gleams red in the firelight. Her oni eyes burn as she surveys the retreating humans. The street runs slick with water and blood.

"Enough," she says coldly. "Stop chasing them."

The monsters behind her halt mid-charge.

From the rooftop above, Nyssara said. "You're letting them go?"

Karnessa doesn't look at her. "They've already broken. Chasing them now is a waste of strength."

Vertha lands beside Karnessa, her scaled arms crossed over his chest. "I thought you enjoyed the hunt."

From the shadows of a collapsed archway, Sorin steps forward, brushing dust from her dark cloak. Her eyes, like shards of obsidian, narrow on the fleeing humans. "They're scattering in all directions. Let them. Fear spreads faster when they think they've escaped."

Thurn chuckles low in his throat, leaning on his spear. "And when that fear reaches the next city, it'll already be half-beaten before we even get there."

Nyssara's lips curve into a faint smile as she strolls closer, her steps unhurried despite the chaos around them. "Don't be too harsh on our little sister here," she says, tilting her head toward Karnessa. "I still remember when His Majesty first introduced you. You could barely meet anyone's eyes—so timid and quiet."

Her gaze flicks briefly to the burning skyline before she adds, "But now? Sir Mhazul has clearly worked wonders."

Karnessa's face twitches. "Alright, don't make me remember those hellish trainings."

Sorin turns her head toward them. "Ok, enough standing around. Let's clean this place out."