A spatial formation appeared in the southern area of the Lumina Palace. Light flared and from within it, two women emerged, one tall, one short. The formation radiated intense magical fluctuations, immediately drawing Chef’s attention. The demon tossed Ronan aside like a lump of discarded flesh, spreading his wings and darting toward the source of the disturbance. Ronan, barely clinging to life, was half-eaten. His body from the waist down gone, exposing glistening red entrails.

  Velen fought the urge to vomit at the hellish scene and the suffocating stench of blood. A layer of Will surrounded her body like a filter, allowing her to breathe more easily. In contrast, Xevia appeared utterly calm. She was far, far older than Velen and having witnessed countless scenes far more brutal and horrifying than this. What lay before them now was nothing but a child’s game in her eyes.

  “No one’s left alive. And the demon’s coming. Are you taking this one, or should I?” Xevia asked with a slight smile.

  “I can handle it. You just keep watch. Our mission is to capture him alive if you make a move, he’ll die for sure,” Velen replied softly.

  Xevia shrugged either way was fine. It was merely a Bloodhunt demon, and not even a pure one, just a human who had merged with “Rotten Flesh.” What did surprise her, however, was the solid field of Will enveloping the entire area. Ever since arriving, she had sensed a powerful presence lurking somewhere within the palace. But since that presence bore no hostility, she paid it no mind.

  “As long as the rules aren’t broken,” Xevia thought to herself.

  The wind howled. The rhythmic sound of beating wings grew nearer, the Bloodhunt demon was approaching at an astonishing speed. Chef was now almost completely fused with “Rotten Flesh.” Thick muscles bulged with crimson veins, and his eyes had lost their pupils, replaced by the blood-red glow of madness.

  “You’re strong… devouring you will make me complete as a true Emperor!” Chef hissed, licking his lips with a grotesquely long tongue. Blood from his body condensed into a crimson trident. Without a word, he launched a sudden attack. His instincts telling him that the taller woman was much weaker than the short one beside her.

  Boom!

  Velen swiftly shaped her Will into a massive hand, striking down with overwhelming force. The blow sent Chef crashing into the ground like a rag doll. With just one strike, Chef’s body was crushed, bones shattered and flesh mangled. The demon clawed his way out of the crater, trembling in terror as he pointed at Velen.

  “Materialized Will… you—you’re a Sorcerer Emperor!”

  Indeed, the beautiful violet-eyed woman, the “acting principal” of the mid-tier Seabloom Academy, was a Sorcerer Emperor, a being who stood at the very summit of the world.

  Velen looked down on Chef with disdain. She loathed this disgusting hybrid species, and above all, she hated the stench of blood. Under normal circumstances, she would have no hesitation grinding him into pulp but the “Alliance” had ordered his capture alive. She had no choice but to restrain herself.

  Chef, however, had no intention of dying there. He regenerated rapidly and attempted to flee. Beside Velen stood a being far more terrifying than herself, and he knew it. No thought of resistance existed in his mind, only the desperate urge to escape this cursed place.

  “Trying to leave? Did I give you permission?” Velen frowned.

  Boom! Chef slammed into an invisible wall midair and tumbled down. He realized Velen was restraining him with her Will, but there was no way out, he changed directions again and again, only to crash repeatedly.

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  No matter where he flew, he could not escape the range of Velen’s Will. After countless failed attempts, rage consumed him. Chef roared and unleashed his Ultimate Skill, adding the “Burn” effect to his strike. His crimson trident ignited with blood-red flames, hurtling toward Velen at terrifying speed.

  “Boom!”

  A violent impact thundered across the field, tearing the earth apart. Dust and shattered stone rose into the air like an explosion. Yet when the smoke cleared, Velen still stood there unharmed. She calmly pulled out a small seed from her robe and dropped it onto the ground.

  “Now then. Be a good boy and surrender. We’ll be escorting you back to the Sky Tower.”

  As soon as her words fell, a soft vine shot out from the ground, wrapping tightly around Chef, who was still hovering in the air. The demon panicked, struggling desperately to break free, even igniting his flames to burn through the vines. But nothing worked, the branches were immune to fire, and worse, they began absorbing his mana. In moments, the demon’s strength waned, his crimson body turning pale and bluish as he collapsed helplessly to the ground.

  “This is a seed from the World Tree. No ordinary being can escape from it. It absorbs mana and has an extremely high resistance to magic. Unless you evade it before it takes hold, there’s no escaping once you’re caught.” Velen walked slowly toward him, speaking in an even tone.

  “Why bother explaining to him? Let’s just go already,” Xevia cut in impatiently. The summoning had clearly left her in no mood for conversation.

  “Just the two of us? What about Renes?” Velen asked, surprised.

  “Renes acted without permission and broke the Alliance’s rules. He should’ve been expelled… but the higher-ups decided to give him a chance to atone. Once we leave, he’ll temporarily serve as the new Headmaster of Seabloom until the Mage Council assigns a replacement.”

  Xevia sighed. She didn’t really want to part ways with him. They had been comrades for many years. She’d watched Renes grow from a bright, cheerful young man into a broken drunk drowning in his own grief. Perhaps this was for the best. By the time the Council sent a new appointee, three months would have passed, long enough, maybe, for Renes to calm his heart after this event.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “And what about Exitus? He’s a Champion. We should bring him to the Sky Tower for proper training,” Velen suggested.

  “It’s unfortunate. Exitus is of the Dark Element. Since the Madenes Incident, mages who practice Dark Magic have been heavily discriminated against. We can protect Renes, since he follows the path of combat, but Exitus… that’s impossible. For now, it’s better that we keep the boy’s identity secret.”

  “What a shame,” Velen murmured, shaking her head. Then she smirked faintly, as if remembering something ironic.

  “A nameless child from the Hesmor border is a Champion, yet the descendant of a great Hero is not. How … how amusing!”

  “Heroes? Nothing but hypocrites,” Xevia replied coldly.

  Once again, Velen and Xevia vanished into the brilliance of the teleportation circle. The only difference this time was the bound demon Chef, wrapped tightly like a bundle, disappearing along with them.

  “She has left, my lord,” Valen sighed and reported.

  When Xevia appeared, Valen’s Will was immediately suppressed. The Lich trembled before the immense Will that radiated from her. If one had to compare, Valen’s Will was like a small river, while Xevia’s was a vast, boundless sea.

  Exitus seemed to have expected that. He turned his gaze toward Renes, who stood dazed in the night. The Battle King, having lost his purpose, became motionless like a stone statue, his eyes empty. He stood there, a cold and lonely ghost. Perhaps only when the sun rose would he be able to return to normal. The boy then noticed another figure lying not far away, breathing heavily, none other than King Rumi. He walked closer and crouched beside the old man, while Valen stood guard, wary that Renes might suddenly lose control. Fortunately, the swordsman made no movement. Maybe because he could not sense hostility from them.

  "Cough, cough…" Rumi coughed violently as if on the verge of death, yet he was still alive, truly alive. For a brief moment, he felt relief. The old king looked at the boy crouching before him and smiled weakly.

  “Thank you, brave warriors. You have saved me! Saved this land from a tragic fate. On behalf of the kingdom of Hesmor, I offer my gratitude. In return, I promise you all the rewards you deserve. Gold, jewels, land, and noble titles! if you agree to serve the royal family.”

  Exitus remained silent. To him, such things were trivial and meaningless. Something else was drifting within his thoughts, weighing on his mind. The atmosphere suddenly grew strange. King Rumi felt uneasy. The boy before him was not ordinary. Before a king’s promise, any normal person would have already fallen into temptation. But this boy was calm, cold and filled with killing intent.

  "Does he intend to kill me? The insane thought flashed across the old king’s mind.

  Exitus suddenly spoke, his hoarse voice echoing in the cold night. He spoke slowly, as if recounting an old tale to a distant friend.

  “There once was a small and beautiful village at the border of Hesmor, where the Emerald River flowed gently through fields of green. From afar, one could see the grand, jade-colored Emerald Mountains. In that place lived a humble family, happy, hard-working, content. They were poor, yet they never went hungry. The mother, though not a woman of great beauty, was radiant when she smiled; her smile bloomed like countless flowers and seemed to wash away all sorrow in this world. The father was stern, never smiling. He left early each morning and returned at dusk. He was no warrior, no mage, just a simple man whose labor kept the family alive.”

  Exitus paused. His face showed no emotion, yet sadness flickered faintly in his eyes. The boy tilted his head toward the moonlit sky, as if hearing the lullaby his mother once sang.

  “They had a child, a strange boy haunted every night by terrible nightmares. Each time he woke in terror, he would cling to his mother, burying his face in her arms, feeling her warmth, listening to her gentle song until sleep returned. Unlike the mother, the father was distant, cold. He never spoke kindly to the boy, sometimes even struck him for small mistakes. Yet he knew his son loved to read. And every time he returned from trading in the nearby town, there would be a worn, old book waiting on the boy’s table filled with tales of the strange and the unknown. The boy knew that was all his father could afford, and he cherished every one.”

  Rumi fell silent. He knew well that the family Exitus spoke of was his own. That village was the one burned to ashes by Golden’s army. The old king realized the boy’s words were not just a story, they were an accusation. The boy blamed him for turning a blind eye, for doing nothing while his people were slaughtered. Rumi already knew the ending of this tale and perhaps, his own fate as well.

  “Everything was peaceful… until one day, the village was burned to the ground. Flames turned the sky crimson. Dark magic filled the air. Bullets of Dark Despair tore apart the last fragments of hope. The soldiers, like demons crawling out from hell, butchered the villagers without mercy. The kind and simple folk lay dead in pools of blood. The children cried beside the corpses of their parents…”

  “Among those children, I was one of them. But unlike the others… I didn’t cry. To me, everything felt… familiar. Those images came to me every night in my nightmares. I’ve long grown used to that feeling.” Exitus rolled up his sleeve, revealing a tattoo of a rat, the mark of a slave of Golden.

  “What’s this? Hey! don’t look at me like that! You think I’m blaming you, King Rumi? No, no… I never blamed you. What you did was for a greater cause, for the good of your nation. I can understand that.”

  King Rumi let out a long sigh. Perhaps he had been too paranoid. The boy was indeed thoughtful. His tone, his expression, everything told the king that Exitus was being sincere. He truly bore no resentment.

  Suddenly, Exitus’s voice quickened, sharp, breathless. Though his face remained calm, the fury within his words was unmistakable.

  “But I do blame those soldiers who burned my village who stole away everyone I loved. I blame the officers who gave those vile orders. I blame the high nobles of Golden who approved such monstrous decrees. I blame their king, Richer, for his madness, his sick, twisted obsession. I blame all of Golden, a nation of hypocrisy, a land built upon the suffering of countless others.”

  Slash!

  A skeletal arm pierced straight through Rumi’s chest. The old king spat blood, eyes wide with disbelief as he stared at Valen. Blood poured from his heart; his sight dimmed. Soon, his body went still. Gently, his corpse was laid upon the ground.

  Exitus stood there, cold and unflinching, watching it all. The boy threw down a crystal orb, recording the entire scene beside the king’s body. By every account, Valen was still a servant of Mulock. Many western gate soldiers had seen him traveling alongside Doc. Rumi’s death would therefore be blamed on mercenaries sent by Aster. The civil war would end. Aster would rise as the True King, and total war against Golden would soon begin.

  Exitus slowly knelt beside Rumi, closing the old king’s eyes with quiet respect. He truly bore him no hatred. But Rumi had to die. There were far too many reasons, vengeance, necessity, fate itself. He wanted revenge, yet how could one person fight an entire nation? How could he defeat one who possessed a Wish like Richer? Only now did he begin to understand the meaning behind Nashor’s eyes that day. Exitus sat down beside the fallen king, softly humming the lullaby his mother used to sing to chase away his nightmares. He sang to Rumi, the gentle tune flowing through the darkness, a voice filled with both sorrow and warmth, drowning in distant memories.

  He sat there in silence, waiting as time drifted on. Just a blink, that was all it took. For Exitus, the night had never been too long.

  “Baby, go to sleep"

  "The night is late."

  "Let the beautiful dreams always stay with you"

  "Baby, sleep well, in the sound of lullaby."

  "The moonlight awaits, to fly with you into dreams."

  ...