Days later.
The room was carved from solid stone — dark, ancient, and cold, as if it had been built long before any kingdom claimed the land around it. The walls rose high, smooth and unbroken, lit only by a few lanterns that burned with steady white flames. Their glow washed the chamber in pale light, leaving long shadows stretching across the floor.
At the center stood a heavy stone table, its surface covered in scrolls, sealed letters, and carved markers representing armies and borders. Dust drifted lazily in the air, disturbed only when one of the figures shifted.
Five men stood inside the chamber.
Five kings.
Each wore a white cloak, draped over white armor suits polished to a mirror sheen. At their waists hung white‑bladed swords, identical in shape but each carrying a different aura — the mark of their dominion.
They waited in silence.
King Nipolla stood near the table, arms crossed, eyes sharp. His cloak hung perfectly still, untouched by the faint draft that moved through the room.
King Zanders leaned against the far wall, one boot crossed over the other, his expression unreadable beneath the hood of his cloak.
King Tcil stood with his hands behind his back, posture straight, gaze fixed on the scrolls as if analyzing every detail without touching a single one.
And then — the two kings whose names had remained unspoken until now:
King Daryon, the Northern Sovereign A tall, broad‑shouldered man with silver‑streaked hair and eyes like frozen steel. He leaned against the left wall, arms folded, his presence heavy enough to make the lantern flames bend slightly toward him.
King Vareon, the Western Highblade Younger than the others, but no less imposing. His cloak draped loosely over his armor, and his white blade rested at an angle against his hip. He stood near the doorway, tapping one finger against the hilt in a slow, thoughtful rhythm.
The five kings did not speak.
They simply waited.
The stone room felt smaller with all of them inside — not because of its size, but because of the weight of their authority. Each king carried the power of an entire dominion, and together, their presence pressed against the walls like a silent storm.
The scrolls on the table rustled faintly as a draft moved through the chamber.
Still, none of them moved.
None of them broke the silence.
They were waiting for the same thing.
The same news.
The same confirmation.
The same moment that would decide the fate of kingdoms.
King Vareon leaned his head back against the wall, exhaling sharply.
"What is taking that damn mage so long?" he muttered, irritation dripping from every word.
The other kings turned their heads toward him.
King Tcil answered first, voice calm but edged with impatience. "Not sure."
Before anyone else could speak, the wooden door creaked open.
A soft white glow spilled into the room.
Dyuke stepped inside.
He wore a long white robe — the same ceremonial attire the kings wore — though his looked slightly oversized, as if he had spent too long adjusting it. His blue aura flickered faintly around him, reacting to the presence of the five rulers.
"Sorry for running late," Dyuke said, closing the door behind him. "I wasn't sure if this robe looked nice on me. But we did agree to wear the same attire."
He walked toward the table, the robe swaying around his ankles. With a flick of his wrist, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter glowing with a white aura, the seal shimmering with divine energy.
He placed it gently on the table.
King Vareon pushed off the wall, annoyance sharpening his tone. "You had us meet, dress in this attire, for what? Can you hurry it up?"
Dyuke nodded once. "Of course."
He rested both hands on the table, leaning slightly forward.
"I called you all in because the Council of Gods has reached out to us."
The room shifted — not physically, but in atmosphere. The kings straightened. The lantern flames flickered. Even the air seemed to tighten.
Dyuke continued.
"The day after the incident, we were reported to by a vampire that the two great enemies had fallen, my mages retrieved the bodies. We stored them with the others — Reia, her daughters, Uzak'me, and the Celestials."
He paused, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Then, last night, Larry the God delivered this letter to me in person."
King Nipolla blinked. "Larry… the God?"
Dyuke sighed. "Yes. Larry. He handed it to me at midnight. I had just gotten out of the bath. I'm still not sure how he got past my guards — but I suppose transforming into a cat makes him more discreet."
King Zanders snorted under his breath.
Dyuke tapped the glowing letter.
"He told me to gather the five of you and read this together. He said it was important."
King Zanders stepped closer, eyes narrowing at the divine seal. "Important, hm? Well… let's read it."
Dyuke lifted the letter, unfolded it carefully, and began to read aloud.
"Dear Dyuke, leader of the Council of Mages, and the Five Powerful Kings,
We send this letter demanding the bodies of Uzak'me, Reia, her daughters, the Angel King, Yajin, their weapons, and the Celestials' bodies. This is a request made by the Council of Gods.
We also ask you to reach out to the Seven Great Sages, as we have seven open positions for them in our council.
Additionally, we ask you to find Eiden, the First Divinity, and Morvak, the Umbramage, and instruct them to head to the Land of Gods. Yes, we have a barrier no one can pass except the gods; give them specific instructions to meet at the west entrance.
We request that this task be handled by the six of you, as you control the largest armies and scouting networks.
We suspect the Sages are somewhere within the Unclaimed Lands, where they fought. One of our members sent birds to search every village, town, and kingdom — nothing. So, they are likely recovering in the Unclaimed Lands.
Please find them and deliver our word.
—The Council of Gods"
King Vareon scoffed, pushing off the wall with a sharp exhale. "What's the deal? Why are they so important?"
His voice echoed off the stone walls, bouncing through the chamber like a challenge.
The other kings turned toward him.
King Nipolla stared at Vareon as if he'd just asked whether the sky was real. His expression tightened beneath the hood of his white cloak.
"Are you seriously asking?" Nipolla said, stepping forward. "Eiden defeated Yajin by himself, and Morvak defeated the Angel King by himself."
The weight of those words settled over the room.
King Daryon shifted his stance, the metal of his white armor whispering softly. He crossed his arms, eyes narrowing.
"And," Daryon added, "Yajin possessed the Sword of Judgement. A blade even the Demon King and Civilar feared. And you know it isn't normal for someone like Civilar to be afraid."
The lantern flames flickered as if reacting to the name.
Daryon continued, voice low and steady:
"Yajin was top of the food chain between the three of them with that blade. But Eiden faced him alone… and survived. That's something I'd call important too."
He paused, turning his gaze toward Dyuke.
"Oh — reminds me. Dyuke, did you retrieve the blade?"
The room stilled.
Dyuke's expression shifted — not fear, not guilt, but a quiet, heavy seriousness.
He shook his head.
The kings froze.
King Vareon's eyes widened. "The hell do you mean?!"
Dyuke lifted both hands slightly, as if calming a storm.
"I mean, we didn't find the blade at all."
Silence.
"And I promise you," Dyuke continued, "we searched the lands thoroughly for hours. Every crater. Every battlefield. Every trace of aura."
King Zanders straightened from the wall, cloak shifting. His voice was low.
"You're telling us the Sword of Judgement… vanished?"
Dyuke nodded once.
"We suspect the Sages may have taken it. Or someone else reached the battlefield before we did."
He exhaled slowly, the blue aura around him dimming.
"But whoever has it…" His voice dropped, becoming almost a whisper.
"Let's pray to the gods, it isn't someone with the mindset of Civilar or Yajin."
The room grew colder.
The kings exchanged glances — not of fear, but of calculation.
Dyuke inhaled, preparing to continue.
"Currently, I have a scout—"
The door burst open, slamming against the stone wall with a sharp echo.
A young man stumbled inside, wearing a brown cloak far too large for him. His ruffled brown hair stuck out in every direction, and his boots skidded slightly on the polished floor as he tried to regain balance.
He froze when he saw the five kings staring at him.
"Uh—sorry, sirs," he said quickly, eyes darting between the rulers before locking onto Dyuke.
He swallowed hard.
"Sir Dyuke… I found the Sages."
The kings straightened.
The scout continued, voice trembling but determined:
"They're staying within Lord Zeth's castle. And... They're safe. I made sure myself."
He finished with a nervous fidget, fingers twisting together as he waited for a response.
Dyuke nodded once, calm and composed.
"Understood. Thank you for letting me know."
The boy bowed awkwardly and rushed out of the room, nearly tripping over his own cloak as he closed the door behind him.
Silence returned.
Dyuke exhaled slowly.
"I will be going," he said, adjusting his robe, "but I'll leave you with a warning."
The kings looked up.
Dyuke's expression darkened.
"Be very careful. There is a cloaked man who has been breaching dungeons and my research storages. He's taken everything related to the Three Gods… and the Grimoire of Divinark."
A ripple of tension moved through the room.
"I'm still searching for the grimoire myself," Dyuke added, "to ensure it stays under safekeeping."
King Zanders stepped forward, cloak shifting.
"So why haven't you caught him?"
Dyuke's jaw tightened.
"Because this man is a black dragon."
The kings froze.
Dyuke continued:
"He flies off before anyone can reach him. And none of our mages can fly."
King Vareon scoffed loudly.
"I thought mages had a flying spell. What's so difficult?"
The other kings sighed in unison — a long, exhausted exhale.
King Daryon rubbed his forehead.
"You are unbelievably clueless…"
He stepped forward, explaining with the patience of a man who had done this too many times:
"The flying spell used by most mages is an ancient spell. It requires around a century to master. It's mainly learned by immortals. And it requires perfect control of both mana and aura."
He gestured with one hand.
"You must use your aura to levitate yourself, then use your mana to stabilize the aura. It's a delicate balance — one mistake, and you fall."
Vareon clicked his tongue.
"Tch. Whose dumbass decided to create that spell anyway?"
King Nipolla snapped his head toward him.
"Watch your mouth. That spell was made by the Three Gods."
Vareon went silent.
Dyuke cleared his throat.
"Anyway… be careful of this dragon. If he finds the grimoire, who knows what he'll do with it."
He turned, opened the door, and stepped out, leaving the kings alone.
The room fell quiet.
The lantern flames flickered softly.
Finally, King Zanders spoke.
"Kings… while we're here, I must inform you: the seal on the Great Demon Jarfa is fading."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
Zanders continued:
"We could ask the Great Sages, but they need their recovery. I propose that in two days, we handle that beast once and for all."
Silence.
King Vareon's eyes widened.
"Why would you recommend an enemy even the Demon King finds a threat?" He stepped forward, voice rising. "An enemy even the Demon King — KING of demons — couldn't control! Jarfa was his general, and even he feared him!"
King Nipolla nodded grimly.
"He's right. That demon is far more powerful than the Demon King. It's best we ask one of the Great Sages. Not all of them fought in the battle days ago."
The other kings nodded in agreement.
Zanders sighed.
"Fine. I'll ask Dyuke to inform them."
He reached the door, then paused.
"Oh — and one more thing."
The kings looked up.
Zanders' expression was serious.
"The first 12‑Tailed Wolf has run wild and caused a stir. It's been stealing food from homes. Nobody's been harmed yet… but it keeps wandering through lands."
He stepped into the doorway.
"Either exploring… searching… or looking for something. Keep a good eye on it."
He left the room.
The door closed.
And the kings were left in silence once more — each one realizing the world was shifting faster than any of them could prepare for.