The faint rustle of parchment fills the chamber.

Alix sits behind his wide obsidian desk, reports stacked neatly in front of him, though half of them already bear his handwriting. A faint glow from enchanted lanterns washes the room in steady light, pushing back the shadows of dawn.

He leans back in his chair, the latest report still open in his hand. His gaze lingers on the words, but his thoughts drift beyond the ink.

"…five already," he murmurs to himself. "Five out of twenty."

The parchment trembles faintly between his fingers before he sets it down.

His eyes narrow. "And yet… silence from the empire."

Draya, standing nearby with her hands clasped, tilts her head slightly but doesn't interrupt. She knows this tone—her master is not speaking to her, but to the air, to himself.

Alix drums his fingers against the desk. "I don't really know what that emperor is thinking," he mutters. "Either he has some grand plan… or he truly believes he can crush my forces without calling on his affiliates."

He exhales, a sound that's more a growl than a sigh. "Confidence or arrogance—I'll find out soon enough."

The silence lingers a moment longer before Draya speaks, her voice softer this time.

"My lord… any news about Lady Ruva?"

Alix lifts his eyes from the desk, one brow arching. "Ruva?" He flips the parchment he had just set down, recalling the details. "In the report, Gander specifically mentioned her. He put that girl in charge of a detachment—soldiers to secure small towns."

He leans back, tapping the parchment with his finger. "Those towns barely have a Tier 4 human as their strongest. Hardly a challenge for her."

A faint smile pulls at his lips. "Why? Do you miss her already?"

Draya doesn't flinch under his gaze. Instead, she allows herself a small smile, gentle and fond. "Yes, my lord. The palace feels very quiet now… without her running around the halls, begging the kitchen for sweets and cakes."

Alix lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "That girl would trade an entire chest full of gold for a tray of candied fruit."

Draya's smile lingers. "And yet, she brightens the palace more than any lantern ever could."

Alix folds his arms, his expression softening just slightly. "She'll be fine. Gander knows better than to waste her talent—or her recklessness—on anything dangerous."

Alix leans back in his chair, the brief smile fading as his eyes return to the pile of work on his desk. He glances at Draya, who still stands patiently by his side.

"You should go now," he says, his tone quiet but firm. "You still have other things to do."

Draya bows gracefully, hands clasped before her. "Of course, my lord. Just call me if you need anything."

She turns and walks toward the door, her steps soft against the marble floor. The chamber door closes behind her with a muted thud, leaving Alix alone in the vast working chamber.

Silence settles again.

Alix exhales slowly, then raises a hand. With a faint shimmer of mana, a transparent screen emerges in front of him, glowing faintly in the air.

[ALIX]

Level: 600

Population: 75,458,890

Need to level up: 500,000,000

Gold Coins: 43,526,726

Erevaris Kingdom

Capital City: Noctaris City

Cities: 50

Soldiers: 3,456,866

Alix studies the numbers, his gaze lingering on the population count. He drums his fingers against the arm of his chair.

"Seventy-five million," he mutters. "Not even close to how much I need."

Alix's words hang in the quiet chamber when suddenly the air stirs.

From the corner of the room, the shadows ripple unnaturally, and a figure steps forth—kneeling low before his desk.

"Your Majesty," the shadow says, voice calm and measured. "A report from sir Gander."

Alix gestures with two fingers, and a sealed parchment slips into his hand as the shadow fades back into the darkness, vanishing without a trace.

Alix gestures with two fingers, and a sealed parchment slips into his hand as the shadow fades back into the darkness, vanishing without a trace.

He breaks the seal and scans the contents. His eyes narrow.

"…So, the Ashedge Clan," he mutters.

He leans back in his chair, tapping the parchment against his palm. "They're next."

For a moment, silence stretches, broken only by the steady hum of the enchanted lanterns. Then Alix exhales through his nose, almost like a scoff.

The parchment rests on the desk, his fingers lingering over it. His expression hardens, but a faint glimmer of thought lingers in his eyes.

"I would be lying to myself if I said I feel nothing for that clan." His voice is low, steady. "Velkain and his people… I don't dislike them."

His hand tightens into a fist on the desk.

"But if they refuse to bend…" Alix's gaze sharpens, cold as steel. "Then I will be the first to show them despair."

The faint glow of the parchment flickers as if in agreement before he sets it aside.

------

The city of Lefast is burning.

Smoke chokes the streets as the monsters surge past the shattered gate, flooding into the avenues like a living tide. Stone walls meant to hold back entire armies now crumble under their claws and steel.

The defenders fall back in desperation, forming hasty barricades from overturned wagons and rubble. Arrows whistle from the rooftops, spears jab from alleys, but the lines break with every passing heartbeat.

On the inner wall, Odgif's voice cuts through the chaos like thunder. His chest heaves, blood streaming from a jagged wound across his ribs. Each swing of his flaming axe grows heavier, slower. His foe, the scaled beast, grins through his own burns—wounds that seem shallow compared to the carnage written across Odgif's battered form.

Beside him, Muv's staff trembles in her grip. Her cloak is shredded, her shoulder bleeding freely, breath ragged as the pale woman presses her with relentless spear after spear. Her winds scream louder, but their edge is blunted, faltering under exhaustion.

Odgif spits blood, glaring at Muv. "Muv—go! Order the retreat!"

"What—" she gasps, her cyclone flickering as another bone spear grazes her cheek.

"Do it!" His roar shakes even the stones. "Get the Ashedge warriors out of here! Lady Velira—her safety is all that matters now!"

Muv's heart clenches, but she knows he's right. One more clash, and both of them are corpses in the sky. She nods, teeth gritted.

The beast bellows in triumph, lunging after her—but Odgif hurls himself forward, axe igniting in a desperate blaze. "Your fight's with me, bastard!"

Steel and fire crash against scaled flesh, locking the two in a clash that shakes the heavens.

On the ground, amidst the wreckage of the inner streets, Velira fights like a storm given form.

Her bow hums, each arrow wrapped in spiraling wind that tears through monster flesh with merciless precision. Her cloak is torn, her hair disheveled, her hands bleeding from the strain of drawing the quasi–Tier 6 weapon again and again.

But she stands her ground. She does not falter.

And before her, dancing through shadow and wind, is Sorin.

Twin daggers glimmer in her hands, one wreathed in dark haze, the other flickering with wind currents sharp enough to cut stone. She darts through arrows like a phantom, her footwork swift, elegant, merciless.

Velira looses three arrows in a blink. Sorin bends low, the first whistling past her cheek. She twists, the second arrow shattering against her dark-cloaked blade. The third—she catches mid-turn, slamming it aside with a dagger, sparks flying.

"Quick hands," Sorin says, her voice smooth, cold. "But you're aiming at shadows."

Velira narrows her eyes, sweat stinging her face. She draws again, the wind gathering sharper around her arrowhead. "And you're underestimating me."

She releases.

The arrow doesn't fly straight—it splits into four, the winds tearing it apart into a storm of razor fragments.

Sorin's smile widens. She raises her daggers, shadows thickening around her like a cloak. "Tier 4: Dark Step."

Her form blurs. The fragments rip through where she stood, shredding stone and flesh of unfortunate monsters caught in the crossfire—but Sorin is gone.

Velira's eyes widen—then narrow as instinct screams. She spins, twisting her bow into a guard just as Sorin reappears at her flank.

Steel screeches against wood and steel, sparks bursting as Sorin's dagger collides with the reinforced bow. The impact sends a shockwave of wind scattering dust and ash around them.

Velira grits her teeth, forcing Sorin back with a point-blank burst of wind. "I'll not get defeated by a monster like you!"