Just hours after the conclusion of the Demonic Coliseum, an important meeting took place in the central castle of Tabraga Fortress, an imposing structure erected between the four main towers. There, the four "Supreme" appeared. Level ten mages and absolute leaders of the combined armies of the four worlds.

  None of them looked normal after what had transpired hours earlier. The four deputy generals, as well as the secretary tasked with leading the meeting, all level nine mages, had to silently endure the murderous aura emanating uncontrollably from Dornath's supreme representative.

  "Those damned sons of bitches! Dwarves born of shit!" roared Murano, the absolute leader of Dornath's forces, slamming his fist on the stone table, a blow that reverberated throughout the room. “This is the worst defeat in over a decade… We couldn't even hold out for more than a couple of hours before declaring a truce. How could they have manufactured an explosive of that magnitude? What the hell is the intelligence section doing?”

  The three remaining supremes, Damian of Velthara, Rumacento of Aeskar, and Helios of Myrrial, remained completely silent. Everyone present knew Murano's personality all too well: a man who simply couldn't keep his mouth shut when he was furious. Interrupting him was pointless, and trying to reason with him would only escalate the situation into an unnecessary conflict.

  The barrage of insults and blows lasted several minutes. Despite being made of extremely resistant stone, the table already showed deep cracks by the time Murano finally took a deep breath, downed a glass of water, and slumped back in his chair, bitterness still etched on his face.

  "Enough venting?" Damian asked, his tone soft but dripping with sarcasm.

  "Shut up and get the statistics festival started," Murano spat. "I hope we've at least obtained enough blood."

  Rumacento, the older-looking of the two, nodded before turning his gaze to the secretary. "Alex, you can begin."

  The man in question, with brown hair and a white robe, cleared his throat and rubbed his tired eyes before lifting a thick notebook.

  “In approximate terms,” he began, “we suffered close to 50,000 casualties in this battle: at least 14,000 dead and the rest wounded to varying degrees. Four regiments were completely annihilated, and another six suffered losses that rendered them ineffective in combat. As for high-level mages, during the siege we lost one level 8 and nine level 7 mages. During the Coliseum, two level 8 and six level 7 mages fell.”

  Helios frowned, crossing his arms. “That represents more than 20% of our combat capacity. Losing three level 8 mages is particularly serious… it will be difficult to replace them in the short term. This could complicate our upcoming campaign against the beasts of the West.”

  “And the gains?” Murano interrupted impatiently.

  “We took down at least 100,000 lesser beasts, and initial reports estimate around 10,000 mid-level beasts,” Alex continued. “As for the high-ranking beasts, unfortunately, we only managed to take down one of the giant turtles and two level 7 birds. On the other hand, the Coliseum gave us nine level 7 individuals and three level 8 individuals. We estimate that the alliance lost close to 40,000 warriors and had at least three times as many wounded.”

  Damian sighed deeply. “It wasn’t a disaster, but this battle… at best, we have to consider it a draw in terms of cost-benefit.”

  “You say that because your forces suffered the fewest casualties,” Murano growled, giving Damian a hostile look. “I have to answer to a mad emperor who sends me fewer reinforcements every year and demands more resources.”

  “I suppose your world is still reeling from the attack perpetrated by the cursed cults,” Rumacento remarked, his tone grave, almost pitying.

  Murano gritted his teeth. “It was too brutal and unexpected… Those bastards destroyed two continental capitals, killed countless mages, and wounded three supremes. I still don’t understand how they managed to evade the anti-portal defenses and the oracles.”

  “Fortunately, their own losses were also catastrophic,” Damian added. “Otherwise, the other three worlds would be in a panic.”

  Helios interrupted with a soft tap on the table, trying to get the meeting back on track. “Getting back to the main topic… Considering that our friend Murano was the most severely affected during this latest incursion, I propose that half of the giant turtle’s body, including its heart, be allocated to Dornath’s forces.” "That should be enough to replenish at least a few high-level mages."

  "Giant tortoises are excellent for making ascension potions," Rumacento remarked. "If they didn't all belong to those damned druids, we would have hunted them to extinction by now."

  The four supremes quickly reached a consensus on how to divide the spoils of battle, trying to optimize the needs of each empire as much as possible. The bodies of the high-grade beasts and the warriors slain in the coliseum served as a true currency among the four empires.

  The meeting continued, shifting to more technical matters: the administration of the fortress, the reconstruction of the damaged sectors, the replacement of the magical barriers, and the rotation of the front-line troops.

  Although the battle had been particularly fierce, the four supreme ones agreed that a confrontation of that magnitude would be difficult to repeat in the short term. Assembling such a vast allied force required time, resources, and unusual coordination between the allies and the free armies. This could become difficult given the recent tensions on the continent. It was said that the two great empires of Ytreses were on the verge of a territorial conflict, something that inevitably compromises the support and transit of reinforcements needed to replace losses.

  While a major war is unlikely to erupt in this post-demon invasion era, few will be willing to hurl their forces against the walls of Tabraga, just for the glory of killing a few mages.

  But another important matter ended up capturing everyone's attention when Alex received a report in the middle of the meeting.

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  "Apparently, we had a level three breach in the Ytreses dimensional space," the secretary commented after a quick read.

  “Level three?” Murano frowned, surprised.

  “A minor portal, of an interplanetary nature, crossed by no more than a hundred individuals,” Alex clarified. “The oracles could only determine that it occurred within this continent, most likely to the west of our position.”

  “That tells us absolutely nothing. Almost the entire continent lies to the west,” Helios protested. “Why so much vagueness?”

  Alex reviewed the document again before answering: “The event occurred while we were in the midst of a battle against the alliance, when magical interference was extremely high. According to the report, the fluctuation caused by the individuals crossing the portal was barely detectable.”

  “How convenient,” Murano retorted sarcastically. “Right at the most opportune moment to go unnoticed. As if someone had informed them exactly what was happening here.”

  The other three Supremes remained silent, thoughtful, at the unexpected news. Only Murano continued speaking, visibly convinced of his hypothesis: “It was the cursed cults, I have no doubt whatsoever. They are the only ones who have proven capable of reaching this planet… They are surely sending reinforcements. It wasn’t enough for them to ruin everything two hundred years ago when they attacked us by surprise. It’s only a matter of time before they betray our race again and help the savages of this world try to invade our worlds.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Rumacento commented cautiously. “To achieve a real invasion, it has to be massive. And that’s only possible with permanent portals or an enormous number of smaller ones. Something impossible to conceal these days. The detection networks of the four empires would stop it immediately.”

  “If I had to guess, I’d say they’re new individuals,” Damian added. “Cursed cults know how to cover their tracks; this time we managed to detect them even with the interference. That means whoever opened the portal did so for the first time in this world.”

  “A level nine or ten mage would have been detected instantly by the oracles,” Helios added. “Even the inhabitants of Ytreses can sense them. We can assume, then, that they don’t pose an immediate threat.”

  “Even so, it’s still unsettling to have new individuals capable of reaching here,” Rumacento said. “And even more so when we consider the possibility of spies within the fortress.”

  "This is going to be a headache..." Alex muttered, unable to contain himself.

  The remainder of the meeting focused on designing new measures to locate spies and improve the vetting of future reinforcements. Additionally, a report was sent to intelligence agencies operating in Ytreses and the other continents regarding the emergence of a new force from one of the four worlds. This seemingly harmless actor could, however, pose future problems for the interests of the four empires.

  ___________________________________________________

  More than forty kilometers from the fortress of Tabraga, in a wide valley that had become a camp for the allied forces, all sorts of scenes, both joyful and sorrowful, unfolded as a result of the recently concluded battle. Long columns arrived from the battlefield, carrying the wounded… and also demon heads.

  In one of the main tents of the camp, belonging to the Sect of the Rising Dragon, a grand celebration was underway. Hundreds of members of the sect and their allies were enjoying a lavish banquet. However, despite the festive atmosphere, in one corner two people were having a serious conversation: Leonor Liu and her master.

  "You have become a true Demon Slayer, proving your worth to our sect," the man said, looking her straight in the eyes. "But I can't help but notice the lack of emotion in you. It's as if this achievement hasn't satisfied your desire to slay every demon possible. What's wrong?"

  Leonor didn't respond immediately. Her gaze swept over each warrior present: many celebrated their feats, while others mourned their fallen comrades. It was a scene she had witnessed for most of her life… entire decades of conflict against the demons.

  "Master Liu," she finally began, "my life's goal has always been to grow stronger and exterminate the demons responsible for the destruction of my ancestral home. That kingdom my grandparents told me stories about when I was a child… For over eighty years I have fought on these fields, under the banners of so many armies I've lost count. My victory today would have been a dream come true for the girl who started out carrying the wounded and performing support duties so long ago. But for me, now, it feels like just another day. Perhaps… I'm simply tired of fighting."

  "It's natural to feel this way at your age, especially if you follow the path of the warrior," he replied calmly, “You are one of my most promising students. You have achieved so much in just seventy years of instruction that no one would have imagined that the young woman I saved back then would become who you are today. You have a tremendous future ahead of you.”

  The words seemed to stir something within Leonor. Her hand rose, almost instinctively, to touch the mask covering her mouth.

  “That was a long time ago… at least from my perspective,” she whispered. “You have lived for so many centuries and know more than I could ever comprehend about what it means to exist for so long. But today, when I finished off that demon general… for a moment I felt my life had lost its purpose.”

  The man seemed surprised for a moment by Leonor’s words, but quickly adopted an understanding expression.

  “You are right in that I have lived for quite some time, and therefore I can tell you that I have seen countless warriors go through similar situations,” he said calmly. “The only solution to your problem is to let time pass. Training and meditation are the best cure for thoughts like these; otherwise, you may generate inner demons that will prevent you from progressing in your future cultivation.”

  “Master,” she exclaimed, kneeling down, “I wish to make a request invoking my title of Demon Slayer.”

  Leonor’s declaration immediately drew the attention of many present, who turned away from their celebrations to observe what was happening.

  “It seems you’ve been planning this for a long time,” the man said, as if he already knew what she was going to ask.

  “I have nothing but fond memories of my time in the sect and all I learned during these years,” she began, with firm resolve. “But I know very well what awaits me if I remain in these conditions. For years my cultivation has stagnated, and it was only through great effort and spending all my savings on elixirs that I was able to reach the Transcendence Stage. But this is my limit… I can feel it.”

  The man remained silent, allowing his disciple to continue without interruption.

  “This path to glory has brought me power I never thought I possessed,” she continued, “but it has also taken away part of my humanity. I couldn’t see my parents in their final moments half a century ago, and a couple of months ago I received news of the death of the last of my siblings… something that happened more than a year ago. I need to reconnect with my humanity, with what remains of my family, and with what my homeland has become.”

  “You once told me you came from Dirmistan, which used to be part of the Fullgorth Empire.”

  “That’s right. It’s now part of the Free States.”

  “The balance of power in that region is more fragile than ever,” he remarked, narrowing his eyes. “Fullgorth has recovered much of what it lost during the worst of the demonic invasions. It’s only a matter of time before they try to reconquer their lost territories, considering even our empire is having serious run-ins with them.”

  “I’m aware of that,” Leonor replied. “That’s precisely why I don’t want to involve the sect if I become embroiled in any conflict there… Master, I wish to request my official withdrawal from the sect.”

  Leaving a sect was something very few dared to do officially. While anyone could simply disappear and never return, at least in Ytreses, where the Eternal Empire wielded overwhelming influence, being branded a traitor meant being forever stigmatized. No respectable force would take you in, much less trust you. Only under very specific and extremely rare circumstances would a sect agree to release a high-ranking member, especially after having invested countless resources, years, and expectations in them. One of those exceptions was precisely the title of Demon Slayer: an honor that granted special privileges and rights in most of the nations of Gaea, and particularly on the continent of Ytreses.

  The man extended a hand and gently placed it on Leonor's head. The gesture, unexpected and laden with solemnity, provoked murmurs among all those present. Even she opened her eyes in surprise.

  In a low voice, but full of an authority that didn't need to be raised, he said, "You are still very young. You need to travel the world, return to your homeland, reconnect with your family. Marry and have many children… And if in a hundred or two hundred years you are not satisfied with that kind of life, or if the troubles you get into prove too much, the doors of the sect will always be open to you. I, your master, will see to that.”

  Leonor couldn't hold back her tears. She fell prostrate, not before a superior, but before the only stable pillar she had had for so long.

  Qiang Liu, nicknamed the Iron Hand. One of the men near the pinnacle of the Rising Dragon Sect. A cultivator just steps away from the ultimate realm of power, destined to become a great elder in his lifetime. One of the few Demon Slayers who had defeated more than one Demon Lord in the demonic coliseum.

  And yet, in that moment, he didn't speak like a living legend, nor like a symbol of the sect. He spoke like a master letting go of his disciple… and like a man who recognized the weight of life on the shoulders of a weary warrior.