At the name, the tavern grows quieter.
An older adventurer, face weathered by years of battle, takes a slow sip of his drink. "If they killed Grath… then this ain't just some monster uprising. This is war."
A merchant sitting nearby frowns, adjusting his tunic. "War? You think they're actually… organizing?"
Another adventurer—this one missing two fingers—snorts bitterly. "They're already organized, idiot. And they're getting stronger." He gulps down his drink and mutters, "Maybe they're tired of the abuse we give 'em."
A hush falls over the group.
Outside, the city churns with its own rumors. Some whisper that the monsters have found a new leader, someone uniting them.
But one thing is clear: fear is spreading.
In the heart of the Raltheon Kingdom, within the grand halls of the Royal Palace, voices clash in heated debate. The air is thick with tension, nobles standing in circles, their faces flushed with anger.
