"Hmm... I've made up my mind. I'll forge a pendant from your corpse."

Kaidric tapped his chin thoughtfully, his voice dripping with casual malice. "Something tasteful to hang from my belt. That should be enough to put the fear of death into the other Abyssal Demons, don't you think?"

"..."

Julius screamed silently, thrashing within the event horizon of the Infinite Soul-Ring. Watching the struggle, a look of twisted anticipation crept onto Kaidric's face.

Titanion Realm. The Northern Bastion of Menethis.

Prince Theodore stood atop the massive stone ramparts, his gaze sweeping over the sprawling grasslands and the dark tree line of the distant forest. His eyes held a mixture of regal pride and steely confidence.

Facing the encroachment of Lokiviria's Alliance of the Hundred Races, Theodore had made the calculated decision to play defense. He had drawn the line here, at the newly fortified Northern Bastion of Menethis.

It was a strategic choice, not a cowardly one. A defensive siege was the safest way to ensure the security of the VIPs sent by the Alliance of Four. With the Bastion beneath their feet, losing was statistically impossible. They had the manpower, the supplies, and the high ground.

Theodore didn't just want to win; he wanted a flawless victory. He wanted a battle where every soldier, from the vanguard to the cooks, felt like a hero. In a siege, everyone participates. Everyone gets to say they held the line.

"Your Highness, have they returned?"

Delphine, a high-ranking noble of the Blood Elves, approached Theodore from behind. Her eyes lingered on him with a blend of professional appraisal and subtle affection—an emotion carefully buried beneath layers of courtly decorum.

Delphine was the younger sister of the Elf King, Rommath. With the King's children still in their infancy, she was the face of the Blood Elf Race's younger generation. She was a Princess in all but title, though she held the rank of High Duchess.

"Good afternoon, Lady Delphine."

Theodore turned, executing a flawless courtly bow.

As a royal of the Blood Elves, Delphine possessed an ethereal beauty that rivaled even Lycanor, who had married into the Stoneheart Horde. Her only shortcoming, if one could call it that, was her strength. She was currently only at the Alpha-Peak stage.

Despite this, Theodore valued her immensely. His father, King Harold, had privately hinted that the Blood Elf Race was keen on a political union between them. Though no official announcement had been made, the subtext was clear to both of them. They danced around each other with a mutual respect that was slowly warming into genuine admiration.

"Good afternoon, Prince Theodore."

They exchanged a knowing smile before turning back to the horizon, standing shoulder to shoulder. This wasn't the time for romance; they were the living symbols of the Human Kingdom and the Blood Elf Race.

"Your Highness," Delphine asked, breaking the silence, "are you not worried about their safety?"

It wasn't just a question. It was a test. A future queen assessing the judgment of her future king.

"Worried?" Theodore chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I don't mean to underestimate the Alliance of the Hundred Races, but our allies are in a league of their own."

He welcomed the scrutiny. It gave him a chance to show his mettle.

"Lady Delphine, the Stoneheart Horde rose from the brutal lands of the North. They understand these northern xenos better than we ever could. If the Giant King was willing to send his eldest daughter and the Giant Prince out there, it means he doesn't view the enemy as a threat."

Theodore's eyes narrowed slightly. "To them, these invaders are nothing more than whetstones—tools to sharpen their blades."

Theodore held a deep, almost fanatical respect for Orion. Privately, nobles often debated whether anyone else could have led the Stoneheart Horde to such dominance in the South. The consensus was always a resounding 'no.' Because of his close ties with Kronos and Ava, Theodore knew more than most. He knew the Stoneheart Horde had established territories across multiple Otherworldly battlefields. They had deep reserves of power, which was exactly why the Dragon Race had aligned with them.

"And what of Blizzarion?" Delphine pressed, deftly shifting the topic away from Pallas and Elara. "He is of the Dragon Race, is he not?"

Blizzarion was the representative of the Dragons. He was a purebred White Dragon, the direct offspring of Frostsire.

Just days ago, Pallas had taken to the skies on his black dragon mount, joining Blizzarion for a hunting expedition against the Alliance of the Hundred Races. The sight of the Black Dragon and the White Dragon soaring together had become the talk of the camp.

"The southern seas are just one of the Dragon Race's many territories," Theodore explained patiently. "Their true stronghold isn't even in our world. Prince Blizzarion is here for the same reason Prince Pallas is—to gain experience. It's a rite of passage. Why would I stop them?"

Theodore sighed. When it came to the geopolitical balance of the Alliance of Four, the sheer weight of the Stoneheart Horde and the Dragon Race often left the Human Kingdom and the Blood Elves feeling suffocated. Even if their allies had no hostile intent, a ruler could never truly relax when sleeping next to giants.

"Prince Theodore," Delphine asked, her voice turning serious, "how do you view our future?"

The question hung in the air. Theodore fell silent.

He was the heir apparent. His words were not just opinions; they were future policy. Delphine wasn't asking for herself; she was asking on behalf of the Blood Elf Race. The two factions were historically intertwined, bound by thousands of years of cooperation.

"The future..." Theodore murmured, staring at the grey stone of the battlements.

"The present is difficult, and the future is unpredictable," he said finally, his voice heavy but steady. "We must tread carefully. Every step must be measured."

It was a conservative answer, born of necessity rather than ambition.

Yet, it was exactly what Delphine wanted to hear. It was what the Blood Elves needed to hear. As long as the Human Kingdom proceeded with caution, the Alliance of Four would remain stable. Stability bought time, and time allowed the Blood Elves to rebuild and accumulate power. It meant peace for the common people.

ROAR!

ROAR!

Two high-pitched dragon cries shattered the philosophical moment.

A streak of white and a streak of black tore through the clouds, diving toward the Bastion. In a heartbeat, they landed on the wide ramparts.

"Hahaha! Eat my dust! I told you I was faster!"

The White Dragon, Blizzarion, hit the stone and instantly shifted, his massive reptilian form collapsing into the figure of a handsome young man. He turned back, grinning at Pallas, who was just sliding off the back of the Black Dragon.

The Black Dragon, Akdir, didn't land. With a powerful beat of his wings, he banked and shot back into the sky to patrol.

"What is with you guys?" Pallas grumbled, dusting off his armor. "You're both Dragons, you're both Alpha-Peak. Why can you shift into human form, but my Akdir can't?"

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