The Supreme Council chamber in Silver Wing Castle was silent, and the atmosphere was heavy. Seven of the most influential figures, who held the fate of a nation in their hands, sat around a round table made of ancient oak.

The tabletop, polished to a high sheen, reflected the dim light from large candles set in intricately carved silver holders. The silence was so tense that you could hear the soft crackle of candle wax and the quiet breathing of those present.

They were Grand Marshal Karatyr. Beside him were his two most outstanding disciples, Alfie and Vincent. The other four were also key figures: Wyrm Manson, Lord of the Nobles, head of the upper class; Paul, the head of secret intelligence, a true phantom with sharp, probing eyes; Martney, the manager of economy and society, a middle-aged woman with a stern appearance; and finally, General Zalogr, who had just returned from the battlefield of East Aerion, his lightning armor still faintly smelling of smoke and fire.

Grand Marshal Karatyr broke the suffocating silence. His deep voice boomed, filling the room with authority. "I trust everyone here has read the summary report of the situation that Vincent has just sent."

His eyes swept over each person, lingering for a moment on Zalorg's face, which was deeply etched with fatigue. "I want to hear a more detailed report on the damages we have suffered, on the enemy's true capabilities, and most importantly, on the shortcomings and loopholes in our defense system, so that we can devise effective preventive measures to ensure similar events do not happen again in the future."

Martney, the woman in charge of the economy, stood up. She tried to keep her voice calm as she read out the heartbreaking numbers. "Grand Marshal, esteemed members," she began, "Regarding the casualties among civilians and soldiers, according to preliminary statistics, the attack claimed the lives of approximately forty-two thousand people."

A collective, mournful sigh filled the meeting room. General Zalorg clenched his teeth, his gauntleted hand under the table tightening into a fist, the iron joints creaking.

Martney took a breath, continuing in a more trembling voice, trying not to let her emotions take over: " The number of wounded exceeds one hundred and twenty-four thousand. In the upper echelons, our losses are staggering: two Rank 6 masters captured, four Rank 5s taken, and another six have... fallen in the defense of our city."

She paused, letting the sad numbers sink into everyone's mind, then concluded. "The damage to infrastructure, homes, roads, public works… is astronomical, incalculable. It is estimated that the total economic damage this time is equivalent to three years of development for the entire capital of Aerion."

As she sat down, Paul, the head of intelligence, spoke in a low voice. "In addition to these direct losses, we have also noted a worrying situation among the populace. Instability, confusion, and fear are spreading. The number of citizens choosing to leave the capital of Aerion is increasing daily."

He paused, looking directly at Karatyr, who had a thoughtful expression. "If this situation continues, the population of Aerion will significantly decline. Not only that, but if information about this attack leaks out, it could also cause people throughout Zephyros to feel afraid, to lose faith in the kingdom's protection, and could trigger a large wave of emigration, causing us to lose a large amount of manpower and resources. These are potential, invisible, but dangerous damages."

"Indeed, these are great losses, enough to set back the development of all of Zephyros for the next few years," Alfie commented, breaking the heavy silence. His voice remained calm and clear as usual, but it held a hint of sorrow. "And yet," Alfie's calm voice cut through the heavy silence, "in a way, we were fortunate."

Alfie's words startled everyone. General Zalorg even looked displeased, his face blackened by smoke. "Fortunate? Alfie, could you explain further? Tens of thousands have died!"

Alfie stood up and walked to the large map of Aerion hanging on the wall. "Because, General," Alfie began, his voice chillingly serene, "this was never about razing a single city. Their plan was far more insidious. Had they truly aimed to annihilate just one of our satellites, the resulting catastrophe would have been absolute."

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He gently swept his hand over the map, then turned back to face the Council, his eyes as sharp as if they could see through all thoughts. "If you all look closely, you will see that each Rank 6 assigned by the enemy to attack our satellite cities had different strategic purposes."

He paused for a moment, letting his words sink into everyone's minds. "From the beginning, they planned to sacrifice the lackeys in the two southern cities to create chaos and draw our attention. The West City was used as a death trap, a place to eliminate or at least severely wound one of our Demigods." He glanced at Zalorg, then concluded, "Perhaps the real battle they were aiming for, their most important target, was in the East and North cities, where there were treasures and important figures they wanted to capture."

"So, you mean to say, they had a clear grasp of our internal information, and then arranged the appropriate Rank 6s for each battlefield, each specific target?" Wyrm Manson interjected, his voice tinged with skepticism. "But how could they be sure that our Demigods would choose to go to the South City first, and then the West City, and not in a different order? Isn't this, perhaps, just a matter of luck, a random coincidence?"

"It was not luck, my Lord," Alfie replied with certainty. "From the beginning, they arranged everything meticulously and sophistically." He pointed to the South City area on the map. "The vulture monster Ipoz in the South City, with his ability to inflict wide-area damage on civilians with his demonic shriek, was clearly a much more dangerous threat than the enemies in the other three cities."

General Zalorg nodded slightly; he understood this better than anyone. The safety of the populace was always the top priority in any military campaign.

Alfie continued, his voice growing sterner: "Furthermore, all our elite air forces, the Griffin and Falcon Cavalry squadrons, were pinned down by other enemies, unable to take off to support the South City. Therefore, the casualties that Ipoz inflicted on the civilians in the South City were the most horrific, the most brutal. This naturally made the South City the place that needed the most urgent support, a place that any Demigod would choose to rescue first."

He paused, letting everyone absorb the information, then continued, his finger moving on the map from south to west. "After being defeated by me, that Ipoz tried to flee to the southwest. As I pursued him, the closest, most convenient location to continue supporting the other cities was the West City."

He looked at Wyrm Manson, explaining logically. "The battle in the West City, on the other hand, was a direct fight between high-level Rankers. If I went there, with my power, I could quickly suppress the situation. As for choosing to go to the North City, where there was a stag-headed monster playing hit-and-run, or to the East City, where there was no sign yet of an overwhelmingly formidable enemy Ranker, it was clear that the West City was the most logical choice."

Alfie placed the divine shield Aegis on the meeting table. "Right here in Silver Wing Castle, they had set a death trap, a meticulously calculated killing move. The internal affairs official Kerus was controlled and unleashed a demigod-level killing strike. That evil power nearly defeated me, if not for the protection of the divine shield Aegis. He also killed both prisoners and alerted Vincent to return."

"It was those arrangements by the enemy that created favorable conditions for the terrorists in the North and East cities to complete their plans, to steal the treasures and capture the important figures," Pope Vincent added, his voice unable to hide his indignation. "According to the final reports, there were at least three Rank 6s in each of those cities, a formidable force."

At this point, everyone in the meeting room truly understood the problem. Every move the Aerion army made seemed to be within the enemy's plan. They had been led by the nose.

"Vincent, Alfie, do you two have any speculation about the true mastermind behind all these events?" Grand Marshal Karatyr asked.

"Teacher, perhaps this speculation of mine is a bit wild," Alfie replied, "but I have a feeling that this is a plan with the cooperation of many different forces, from Black Societies, heretical cults, and possibly even the governments of other nations hostile to us. It can be said that the attack on the Capital Aerion this time had the contribution of at least half of the major and minor powers across all of Tehra."

"Countless small underground streams, if they merge, can also form a great flood that submerges everything," Pope Vincent continued, his gaze distant. "Before this attack occurred, there were many seemingly unrelated events. The number of Black Societies and heretical cults suddenly increased sharply. The phenomenon of mutated people and monsters appearing became more frequent. Countless mysterious murder cases. Neighboring countries continuously provoked us at the borders."

Vincent emphasized, "All of that could well have been just stepping stones, subtle moves cleverly planted by the enemy to serve this large-scale attack. This is clearly a plan that has been prepared for a long time. The one behind all of this is truly a once-in-a-century genius."

"No," Alfie interrupted, "I don't think their goal was simply to capture high-ranking Rankers and steal treasures. That might only be part of the plan. The real battle, the final goal they are aiming for, is probably much larger, much more dreadful. All the riots, the attacks on the four satellite cities, were perhaps just to serve the different purposes of each participating force, the private benefits they had agreed upon beforehand."

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