"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—an army of fourteen thousand monsters, each one stronger than before. The recent additions—four thousand more who chose to join—are 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—but 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.
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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—one of the noble captains—grits his teeth. "What’s with this reaction? They were afraid just a moment ago—"
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—only certainty.
For a brief moment, the battlefield is silent.
Then, without warning—Varkas moves.
A single step. A blur.
The next thing anyone sees—Draven 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—his 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?"