Inside the royal palace, devastation shook the corridors.

Explosions of mana echoed in the distance, walls cracked, and the sound of clashing steel and shouts carried faintly through the halls.

Inside the room of Elaria Moonshade Lareth'Thalas, chaos had already passed.

Elaria was on her knees.

Blood dripped from the corner of her mouth, sliding down her chin and staining the floor beneath her. Her breathing was rough, shoulders trembling, mana exhausted. Her bow lay a short distance away, its string frayed from overuse.

Standing in front of her was a gray-haired man who looked to be in his fifties, but whose eyes held a cold, hardened cruelty that had nothing to do with age.

Marcus Reed.

All around him stood masked figures in dark uniforms—his subordinates. Their faces were hidden, their auras sharp and murderous, forming a tight circle around Elaria's room, cutting off every escape route.

Marcus watched Elaria kneeling before him, a twisted, unhinged smile slowly curling his lips.

"Looks like the intel was correct," he said, voice laced with amusement. "That monstrous child isn't in the palace right now."

He spread his arms slightly, as though admiring the scene.

"Which gave us the perfect opportunity to strike."

He glanced around the room then—eyes narrowing slightly.

"But… it's strange," he murmured. "It was too easy to get here. No real resistance. Almost as if someone wanted us to walk right in."

A smirk tugged the corner of his mouth.

"That scheming bastard…" he chuckled. "He set this up, didn't he."

He looked back at Elaria.

In one slow motion, he crouched down and reached out, lightly touching her cheek with the back of his fingers as if she were some fragile ornament on display.

"I almost feel sorry for you, elf girl," he said. "Looks like that boyfriend of yours has already betrayed you. Used you as bait, thinking he could track me that way."

Elaria's eyes flashed.

She violently jerked her head away, flicking his hand off her face. In the same motion, she snatched up her bow, drew an arrow from her quiver with a trembling hand, and nocked it with practiced speed.

Mana surged around her.

A sharp, bright aura wrapped around the arrowhead, wind and nature mana gathering in a swirling vortex. Her entire body screamed in pain, but she forced herself to draw the bowstring back to its limit.

"He. Is. Not. My. Boyfriend," she shouted.

BAM.

The arrow was released.

It shot forward with the speed of lightning—leaving a green trail in the air as it tore through space toward Marcus's face with killing intent.

But something unbelievable happened.

Marcus didn't even draw the sword at his waist.

He simply raised his hand.

The arrow reached him.

His fingers snapped closed around it.

The lethal projectile that could punch through steel stopped dead in his grip. The wind burst around his arm, tearing his sleeve, but his skin remained completely unscathed.

Elaria stared, stunned.

Marcus looked at the arrow now clutched in his hand, then casually snapped it in two. The shattered halves fell to the floor with a dull clatter.

Even in her battered state, Elaria couldn't believe what she'd just seen. That arrow had been a full-power shot. And he'd stopped it with one hand.

Marcus chuckled. "That was an effort worthy of praise," he said. "You've got unbelievable talent with the bow, girl."

His gaze softened for just a fraction of a second.

"Just like my wife," he added quietly. "She was a bow user too. Her name was Aisha."

He smiled faintly, but there was no warmth in it—only warped nostalgia. "To me, she was the most beautiful woman in the world."

Elaria said nothing.

Marcus began to circle her slowly, hands behind his back.

"We met in Zenith Academy," he said. "Back when I was still a decent man. We married soon after. Life was… good. Too good, maybe." He chuckled darkly. "As they say, all good things end eventually."

He began listing names, each one heavy with history. "Me, Edward, Alyssa, Alina, Aisha, Reynard, and others… we were all good friends once."

He sighed. "And my Aisha… she had one problem. She was too kind. Too soft. She didn't know how to say no. No matter what anyone asked of her."

His eyes darkened.

"Then it appeared. The first SS-rank dungeon. No one could clear it. Hunters died like dogs, one after another, throwing their lives away for fame and glory."

His voice grew harsher. "That's when it happened. That bitch Alina asked Aisha to help her conquer that dungeon. And as kind as Aisha was… of course, she agreed."

Elaria coughed, blood on her lips. "Not to interrupt… but aren't you afraid Alex might come back?"

Marcus clicked his tongue. "How rude of you to interrupt someone's story."

He leaned down slightly, looking her in the eye. "But to answer your question: like I said, that guy has already abandoned you. He thinks he's clever. I can see his plan clearly."

"He wants to save both your mother and your father's precious reputation. He thinks he can have it all."

At the mention of her mother, Elaria's eyes widened, panic overriding her pain. "Where is my mother?"

Marcus shrugged. "Don't worry. She's safe. For now. How long she stays that way depends entirely on your dear father."

The color drained from Elaria's face.

"So like I said," Marcus continued calmly, "no one is coming to save you."

He straightened.

"Now… where were we?"

He tapped his chin theatrically. "Right. That bitch Alina asking Aisha to go with her. And Aisha accepting."

"At that time," he went on, "the dungeon was on the verge of a break. Edward was scrambling to give the expedition all the support he could. Potions, artifacts, elite forces—all thrown at it."

Marcus's expression twisted. "I wasn't there to stop her. I was on another expedition. So she went in with Alina."

He paused for a moment.

"You can guess what happened next," he said quietly. "A massacre."

His voice dropped. "Out of seven hundred people sent… only four came back."

He looked at his hand as if seeing the number there.

"Four."

"Aisha was not among them."

He laughed once, bitterly. "Only that bitch Alina and her closest guildmates walked out alive. Everyone else died."

"When I returned and heard the news, I…" His jaw clenched. "It felt like my mind cracked. My whole world shattered."

"I tried to find Alina, but she hid from me like a rat. And Edward…"

Marcus's eyes flashed with rage.

"Edward banned anyone from entering that dungeon. Said it was too unstable, that it could break at any moment. I begged him to let me go in. Begged."

His voice turned mocking. "Do you know what that bastard said? He said he had to go to the borders to stop an invasion from some tiny kingdom whose name I don't even remember. And that my Aisha was already dead. That I should accept it."

Suddenly, Marcus snapped.

"Who the hell was he to declare my wife dead?!" he yelled. "Without even trying to help me?!"

Elaria flinched as his aura flared.

"That was the day I decided," Marcus said, voice low and shaking with rage, "that I would never give those two an easy death. Never."

"I vowed to make them feel misery. The same way I did."

He smiled—a slow, twisted, venomous smile.

"So I joined the only organization that could help me achieve that. The Cult of the Abyss."

He raised his hand, flexing his fingers as if feeling invisible chains.

"By signing a dark contract, I shattered my old limits and broke through to monarch rank. I sacrificed a part of my soul for it. And it was worth every piece."

"After that… the revenge began."

"Like a good friend," he said mockingly, "I kept taking intel from Edward. He trusted me. And I used that very intel against him."

He laughed softly. "By the end, Edward was so broken that when I finally ended his life… I almost felt bad for him."

"Almost."

His eyes hardened. "But his end came anyway. And soon, Alina will follow. She'll die a miserable death too. Along with everyone in this cursed empire."

He paused, tilting his head slightly.

"What I didn't expect," he admitted, "was Kyle being defeated."

"I mean, an avatar of two primordial gods… defeated by some nobody. A brat with no background, no backing, no divine blessing. Nobody even knows where that monstrous kid came from."

He grinned.

"But that just makes this all the more interesting, doesn't it?"

Elaria spat a little blood to the side, then looked up at Marcus with a steady gaze. "You're scared of him, aren't you?"

Marcus didn't even try to deny it. "Of course I am," he said. "If not for that accursed boy, I would've already destroyed this country. Only a fool wouldn't be afraid of him."

He paused, then smiled thinly. "But I also know this—no matter how strong someone is, everyone has limitations. No one can win a war alone, no matter who they are."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "Even if it's Alex Dragonheart."

"It doesn't matter," Marcus went on. "I've been studying that boy very closely. I have a decent idea of his strength now. And I've prepared proper countermeasures for him."

A shadow crossed his face. "I even had to shake hands with those accursed dragonkin. I hate them. But I had no other choice. That boy is too dangerous to face unprepared."

He tilted his head, recalling something. "Thanks to that deal, I've acquired some fascinating creatures. Weapons, really. Worth all the hatred I had to swallow."

Before Elaria could say anything, one of the masked subordinates rushed in and dropped to one knee in front of Marcus.

"My Lord," the guard said, head bowed. "All the trackers have been found and disabled."

Marcus smiled.

"Good," he said.

He turned back to Elaria. "This will hurt a bit."

Blue energy gathered in his palm—cold, precise, like surgical lightning. He extended his hand toward her.

A bolt of power shot into Elaria's body.

It felt like lightning had struck her from the inside.

Agony tore through her nerves. Every spell, every protective charm, every small tracking enchantment Alex and the others had layered on her flared at once—then burned out violently. Her vision blurred, her limbs went numb.

"You didn't think I was just wasting time talking, did you?" Marcus said, his voice sounding distant to her fading consciousness. "We were searching. For every tracker, every spell that could reveal our location."

Elaria's eyes rolled back.

Darkness closed in.

Her body slumped forward as she lost consciousness.

Marcus lowered his hand. "With this, every spell and tracker on her is gone," he said to his men. "Let's go. We should leave immediately."

---

BOOM.

A massive explosion shook the corridor just outside Elaria's room.

The shockwave blasted through the doorway, sending several of Marcus's guards flying like ragdolls, their bodies crashing into walls and furniture.

Out of the smoke and dust, a woman stepped forward.

She had dark hair pulled back, streaked subtly with grey, and dark eyes that burned with fury and pain. Fine lines on her face showed her age—somewhere in her fifties—but the aura around her was sharp and powerful.

Alyssa Vega.

Her gaze locked onto Marcus.

For a moment, her breath hitched. "I couldn't believe the news when I heard it," she said. "So it really is you, huh, Marcus."

Her voice trembled somewhere between anger and grief. "Why."

Marcus met her eyes calmly. "Because I lost everything," he replied. "So the world should lose everything too—along with the people who made me lose it."

"Aisha would be ashamed of you," Alyssa said quietly.

Marcus's teeth clenched. A vein pulsed at his temple. "Don't say her name," he growled.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. "Alyssa," he said at last, "I'm letting you walk away. For her sake."

His gaze sharpened. "Don't ever appear in front of me again. Next time… I will kill you."

Alyssa's eyes hardened. Mana surged around her as she raised her hand.

Several spears of pure energy materialized in the air beside her—glittering, deadly, each humming with enough power to pierce stone.

"Let the girl go," she said.

Marcus didn't hesitate.

He punched the ground.

Mana burst outward in a solid shockwave, forming a massive barrier that enveloped him and all of his subordinates. A dome of dense energy covered them completely.

Alyssa's spears shot forward, slamming into the barrier.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Each spear collided with the shield and shattered into motes of light, the impact rippling across the surface but failing to break it.

"Come back here, coward!" Alyssa shouted. "Is this how you repay Aisha?!"

Marcus didn't answer that.

He looked at her through the shimmering barrier.

"Alyssa," he said, voice oddly calm, "thank you for being her friend and mine too."

He turned slightly, as if preparing to leave, then added, "And about Selena… I'm sorry."

Alyssa froze. Her eyes widened.

"I never intended for that child to die," Marcus said. "That was… unfortunate."

His gaze hardened again. "Remember this. The next time we meet… it will be as enemies."

Light flared around the barrier.

In the next instant, Marcus and his forces vanished—teleportation magic tearing them away from the palace.

The dome collapsed, leaving only silence behind.

Alyssa stood alone in the wrecked corridor, fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white.

"Damn it all," she whispered through gritted teeth.

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