The Second Realm thrummed with vitality at every corner. Clear blue skies stretched endlessly above, while the golden streets shimmered under the sun's warm embrace. Buildings, more than mere houses, a mix of ingenious and futuristic designs that seemed to hum with the faint lifeforce of their history. Schools, colleges, and research centres populated every district of Arcanor, the famed capital where innovation met tradition.
At its heart stood a towering castle, its weathered stone walls whispering tales of a legendary past. Guards in crimson coats, each armed with gleaming blades, patrolled the lush gardens blanketing the castle grounds. Children frolicked through these fields, their laughter mingling with the rustle of leaves. Some played tag, others huddled over chessboards, while a few found solace in the tranquillity of solitude under the trees.
Sudden shouts from the castle's upper floors sent pigeons flying into the sky. Inside, Kabi, Lord of the Ninth, slammed his fist against a polished oak table.
"What do you mean Mikah will be late?" he growled, his glare fixed on Kinna, Lord of the Fifth. "Absurd! Truly absurd!" He dropped into his chair, his red cloak pooling around him. Like the other lords present, his robe bore the emblem of a white rose.
"Patience, Kabi," Missui, Lady of the Second, said as she adjusted her spectacles. She sipped her tea with measured grace, the steam framing her aged but dignified features. Brushing a strand of white hair aside, she continued, "We're all aware of the state of the realms. Perhaps we should be more understanding."
Kinna, an older man with of nobility and scholarly refinement, helped himself to a plate of pastries. "I agree," he said with a sigh. "Dvalin has his crises, while Ansan is busy fortifying his borders, preparing for the worst. Who's to say he won't be the next target?" He exchanged a glance with Missui, his tone softening. "Your family, the Falcrests, always stood out. Even your predecessor bore the same name and poise, young lady."
Missui chuckled, her eyes narrowing behind her glasses. "How kind of you to remember," she said, her tone light. "My father only attended the last meeting out of formality. Or do you doubt this 'young lady' can't manage the Second Realm, Honourable Lord Kinna?"
Kinna waved her off, his attention returning to his scone. "On the contrary, I'm glad to see a woman in power again. It's been far too long. I'm merely... surprised."
Meanwhile, Kabi stared at his untouched plate of peas, his fists tightening. "Does everyone see this as some kind of joke?" he whispered. "To our very people, we are seen as nothing more than clowns. For over a century, the Lords have avoided gathering like this. Now, in a moment as critical as this, some can't even show up on time!"
Kinna called for a maid to approach, requesting tea. The maid, dressed in the signature uniform of the Second Realm—a blue and white lace ensemble with glass spectres draping down her skirt—stepped forward. Strapped to her arm was an intricate mechanism, a weapon-like device. She poured the tea in silence before retreating with a bow.
He took a sip, turning his attention to Kabi. "Your anger clouds your understanding, my friend," he said, his tone measured. "We are not Mikah, that you must act so... unruly toward." Another sip followed, his brow furrowing. "I sympathise with your frustrations. Our people may indeed see us as jesters, but this treaty, though unpopular, might be our only hope. The situation worsens with every passing day."
Kabi sighed. "The Fourth Realm is on the brink of collapse. We have the soldiers, the gifted adventurers, and more than enough funds to deal with this crisis. Yet here we are, allowing one of our own to tarnish the reputation of the Nine Lords while he shirks his responsibilities!"
"Less sugar, please," Missui said to her maid, preparing a new cup before addressing Kabi. "I see you've misunderstood the true nature of the Fourth's predicament."
"Then enlighten me," Kabi said with a smile. "You understand back then we were scared of losing the people since they were captured but now these hunters don't plan to hurt the civilians they could even leave before the battle commence so why aren't we attacking? This is our chance!"
"Darius Locke," Missui whispered. "That is my answer"
Kinna's teacup trembled in his hand before he set it down. His sharp gaze met Missui's. "So that's it," he said. "This matter has already surpassed our abilities."
Kabi roared, hurling his plate to the floor, the crash echoing through the chamber. "Damn it! Of all the hunters, why him?" His voice dropped to a strained whisper as he clutched his head. "Darius Locke, how can I forget about such an important piece? To think that monster still lives within our realms"
The maids froze where they stood, their faces pale and their hands trembling. Missui noticed their unease and offered them a gentle smile. "I understand your fear. A monster has crossed our borders. Even as an isolated nation, his name precedes him—the man who once challenged the kings of this world. The Supreme Being. The Demon King. The Emperor of Dragons."
Kinna stroked his beard. "But why would a figure of his stature work with a swordsman like Jinni? A man whose only ambition seems to be opposing the Nine Realms. Darius has always avoided politics ever since he surfaced."
Missui's eyes narrowed. "Jinni is no ordinary swordsman," she said, her voice sharp. "You truly lack information, don't you?"
The room fell into uneasy silence. The Nine Realms lacked a centralised means of communication; news travelled slowly, carried by messenger birds to scattered reporters, who then posted updates on city boards. It was an outdated system for an evolving world, something that has been bothering Missui before she even came into power. Still, it wasn't an excuse for the Lords.
Missui sighed, placing her cup down. "Jinni single handedly defeated an entire battalion. He brought every weapon under his control, forcing even the most seasoned warriors to kneel. A power Dvalin himself would be wise to fear." She leaned forward. "As for why Darius aids him, my sources uncovered something."
"What did they find?" Kabi asked.
"He seeks the Blade of Miru," Missui said, her voice dropping. "I trust you're familiar with the legend?"
Kabi scoffed. "A mythical blade that changes form? A slime weapon? Why would he spend his time chasing a false dream?"
Kinna nodded in agreement. "Such a thing doesn't exist. There's no record of it in history, also"
Missui shook her head, her piercing gaze silencing their objections. "It does," she said, her voice firm. "And only one man in this nation knows of its history—the late Tankenu, Jinni's former master. Now do you see the connection?"
Kabi turned toward the window, the weight of realisation settling on him. "Mother of Mikah," he whispered, holding his fists. "May the others have the strength to withstand this calamity. What power must this man attain to satisfy his thirst?
#
Darius stood, his gaze fixed on the dark skies above. The clouds writhed, entwined with the serpentine forms of roaring dragons that wove themselves through the storm. His fists tightened as he steadied his breathing. This power... His eyes followed the interplay of monstrous forms above. As I thought, it's not a gift. How bothersome. What could it be, then?
On the ground, Pasta and Kabal remained frozen, their bodies paralysed by the overwhelming force of Darius's earlier burst of energy. The air still trembled with its lingering resonance.
"This… this is the same," Pasta said, his voice low as he hugged himself. Memories flooded back, unbidden. Pyrovile, engulfed in flames, its streets a maelstrom of despair and confusion. He remembered how the chaos had briefly ebbed, only to give way to a greater horror: a demon descending from the skies, its presence under the command of Mr. Swordsman. The sea of dragons above radiated the same crushing aura.
Ever since that day... Pasta thought. I've poured everything into honing my life force, replaying every battle in my head, striving to grow stronger. He clenched his chest as if trying to keep his heart from bursting. And yet, how could I ever hope to surpass a man like him, like Mr Swordsman? Can I ever arrive at their level?
His eyes drifted upward once more, observing the pulsating energy around Darius. This aura, so this was the cause. No one needed to alert them of our arrival. With his energy this potent, he could locate anyone within miles, especially those with strong life forces. It was never a question of secrecy; it was inevitability. Yet here I am, blaming my friends, never even considering that such strength even existed. How naive am I?
Lowering his head, Pasta's gaze shifted to Kabal, whose expression remained transfixed by the otherworldly display above. Just how naive were we all? To try to fight that man.
On the battlefield's far side, Zephyr held the end of a shattered chain, the remnants of her blade scattered to dust. "This is... unfortunate—"
Bastian scooped her up, evading Tori's spinning scythe that darted after them. He ran with a booming laugh, dodging the attempts of the weapon to strike them as he headed towards Ryder.
"You're not getting away," Tori said, her glasses flaring with chaotic energy readings, flickering as they scanned the sky. So this is the power of the disciples' leader…
Ryder's sharp eyes flicked between Darius and the stormy skies above. "I'll take your word that you won't involve yourself with our plans any longer since this is what you've always wanted," he said to Darius, who did not respond.
"Put me down, you oaf!" Zephyr yelled, stabbing at Bastian's rocky shoulder. He paid no attention, grinning as he skidded to a halt beside Ryder.
Ryder glanced toward Pasta and Kabal, narrowing his eyes. "I thought I sensed something familiar," he whispered before smirking. "But this is a bad time, we'll settle this some other time."
With that, Bastian stomped the ground, triggering a massive ice pillar that launched them skyward and out of sight.
"Damn it, they got away," Tori said, as her weapon returned to her hand.
Falcon stepped forward. "We've got bigger problems than those three"
The clouds raged once more, lightning cracking through the clouds. Darius turned to Dain, his voice low. "So, you're leaving now?"
Dain moved to stand beside him, gazing at the sea of dragons that coiled in the storm. "You're not the only reason I came," he whispered. "I also need to meet a certain guild master. You were right, I need to loosen up. I've already decided that."
"Good," Darius whispered. "Next time, we'll share a drink. And don't forget your mother and I still expect a grandson."
Dain's shoulders sagged slightly as he gave a small smile. "She keeps saying the same thing in her letters. You two are too alike, always pressuring others with your overwhelming presence even through text."
Darius allowed himself a little smile before stomping the ground with enough force to crack the ice beneath him. "Thorne!"
Thorne, now in his humanoid beast form, strode forward. "Yes?"
"Assist Dain."
"Okay."
Dain sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm a grown man, you know. I don't need a babysitter." He turned to Falcon and Tori, who eyed him in silence. "Don't mind my father. This is his way of saying you should relax."
Falcon and Tori exchanged confused glances.
"I'll be back in two weeks," Dain said, pulling his mask from his belt. "Until then, stay out of trouble, especially with Jinni hunters."
Tori stepped forward. "We can't just leave you alone with... him."
Dain froze, glaring at her, the mask dangling from his hand. Without a word, he donned it and turned away. "You both disobeyed my orders by interfering here. Consider this your punishment."
Tori stepped back, lowering her head in silence
Dain sighed, his tone softening. "Don't worry. I'll be fine with a bodyguard like Thorne. Just look at him, he's a walking fortress."
Thorne rumbled, placing a massive hand on Dain's head. "Let's move. You know how he gets when he goes all out."
Darius stared at him for a moment before creating a portal. "I almost forgot"
Darius's gaze darkened as he stepped forward, flexing his muscles. The air around him rippled with raw energy, and he leapt into the storm, vanishing into the sea of roaring thunder and dragons.
Dain waved to the others. "Get moving, now! That includes you two!" he screamed at Pasta and Kabal, who remained seated, staring dumbfounded at the chaos above.
Pasta blinked, his gaze drawn to the dragons swirling through the storm. Something about the sight stirred a deep unease in him. He lowered his eyes, only to spot a spinning scythe barrelling straight for him. Without a second thought, Pasta and Kabal yelled as they bolted through the portal.
"Good work," Dain whispered. "The last thing we need is to be targeted by the adventurers here."
Tori adjusted her glasses, which transformed back into a mask, and followed the others through the portal.
The storm intensified, lightning tearing through the skies as the ground quaked with fury. The ice cracked and shattered, obliterating the battlefield, leaving nothing but destruction.
#
A woman lounged in velvet, the dark crimson fabric clinging to her form like a lover's embrace. The neckline plunged boldly, revealing just enough to tempt curiosity and command attention. Smoke curled from the long pipe between her fingers, winding around her like silver ribbons dancing in still air. Golden lanterns bathed the room in a muted, seductive glow, while cherry blossoms swirled on an unseen breeze, their petals drifting like silent dancers in an eternal waltz.
"Complications, complications," she murmured, her voice sultry and languid, like silk brushing against a blade. She turned her head slightly, her obsidian tail flicking behind her, eyes glinting red in the lanternlight. "Wouldn't you agree, Sparrow?"
At the threshold stood a slender figure, a bird perched delicately on his finger. His long fur coat flowed like the winter wind, and a silver pocket watch caught the golden light as he flicked it open with a sigh.
"I didn't come for your poetry," Sparrow whispered. "But... the scent of these blossoms," he glanced at the floating petals, "feels like home. Like a lullaby whispered by a fading star, or perhaps the embrace of a mother long buried. Is that your intent?"
She laughed softly, a purr hidden beneath her breath, her lips curling with amusement. Reclining further, she traced a finger down her collarbone and over the curve of her tail, each movement slow, deliberate, designed to unsettle and entice.
"You're too calm," she observed. "Too polished. You've heard whispers of me, yet you came alone, unguarded? That's bold, even for someone like you."
Sparrow slipped the watch back into his coat and shrugged. "The world's unravelling. At this point, everything is either an obstacle... or a solution." The bird in his hand took flight, disappearing into the cherry haze. His eyes met hers. "So tell me, demon, are you an obstacle or a solution?"
She shifted slightly, brushing back her raven hair. With a flick of her hand, she pointed to the ornate chessboard beside her. "Care to find out, Your Honourable?"
Sparrow dropped gracefully to the floor and moved a pawn. "Your life force doesn't hum like a demon's. Why let me call you one?"
"Letting you believe what suits you spares me the trouble of lying." She advanced a knight with a coy smirk. "The Nine Realms already watch me too closely."
He moved again without looking at the board. "I can see why."
Her gaze lingered. "What do you want, Sparrow? You defied nobles who swore blood oaths to protect my secret. You even killed a friend... just to earn my attention. You're either dangerous or foolish."
"Did it work?" he asked, nudging his king forward. "Did I earn your attention, that is?"
She paused, eyes narrowing in mock contemplation. Then she slid her bishop across the board, capturing his rook. "Let's say I'm... intrigued. My apprentice would be, too."
"I'm not asking for much," he said, forking her queen with deliberate grace. He looked up, eyes half-lidded. "Just a bit of entertainment."
A flock of birds glided into the room, their wings careful not to disturb the blossoms as the petals continued to fall in a tranquil, almost sacred silence.
The woman mirrored his smile. "Splendid. We share the same craving, then. I knew I'd enjoy your company the moment I saw your gift," she said, sliding closer. Her crimson eyes gleamed with interest, and perhaps something deeper. "You and I are alike. But—"
She slid her rook across the board, checking him. "We chase different dreams. I toy with humans, yes... but I do so with purpose."
Sparrow's chuckle was soft, breathy. "A goal? I've achieved all there is to conquer. Now they're little more than echoes in an empty room. But still—" he moved his king from danger—"I want to see it."
"See what?" Her smile dimmed, curiosity flickering in her voice as she moved her queen out of danger and checked again.
Sparrow blocked the check with a bishop, its angle trapping her rook. "The future of the Nine Realms... or the birth of the tenth."
She tilted her head. "Isn't the birth part of the future?"
"Depends on who's birthing it, sweetheart." He extended his hand across the board. "Call it a draw, for now."
She studied his hand for a moment, then took it with a delicate grasp. "Fine. A draw."
He rose, letting a bird settle once again on his finger. "Now... let's move on to other business."
Her gaze sharpened. "What business, Honourable?"
He raised the bird to eye level, his voice almost whimsical. "Rules are meaningless... unless someone enforces them."
A dark gleam entered her eyes, and her smile twisted into something far more dangerous, as if waiting for this very moment.
"Ah," she purred. "You mean the Falcrest girl."
Sparrow said nothing, but the stillness that followed was more telling than words.
"How interesting," she whispered, reclining once more, the cherry blossoms swirling around her as the firelight danced in her eyes. "You never cease to surprise me, Honourable"
#
Two masked hunters moved swiftly along the upper tiers of the capital, their dark wooden masks hiding every trace of expression. Above them, the elevated city glistened beneath the snow-dusted sky, a wonderland of icy spires and shimmering crystal bridges. The architecture was elegant and alien, where the lower city's stone buildings were jagged and worn.
Below, fireworks erupted over the grand coliseum in booming flares, marking the start of the twin events: the Winter Trade Festival and the famed Gladiators' Week. Mechanisms thrummed in the background—arcane constructs designed to warm the air and keep the storm at bay, casting a soft, golden glow on the snowflakes, similar to the lower levels but far advanced.
In the sky, illusions painted the clouds—floating popsicles, dancing sigils, and the glimmering crest of the realm, shifting with the wind. Garlands of frost-kissed lights stretched between towers, bathing the city in a whimsical, wintery charm. It was like stepping into a snow-covered dream.
The smaller hunter stopped in her tracks, completely enraptured. She yanked out a notebook and began furiously scribbling, the tip of her quill tearing at the page.
The taller hunter gave her a sharp elbow. "Focus."
A whistle shrieked behind them. "Hey! Hunters aren't allowed here! Masked or not!" an officer bellowed, already reaching for his baton.
Before the smaller hunter could reply, the taller one grabbed her by the wrist. "Move!"
They bolted, vaulting over a railing and sprinting along a narrow ledge. Without wasting a breath, they leapt onto a line of hanging posts, balancing expertly as they dashed across the rooftops. Colourful festival ribbons fluttered beneath them, trembling in their wake.
"Wait!" the smaller hunter cried. "I wasn't done taking notes!"
"This isn't a sightseeing trip!" the taller one snapped. She hooked a hand around a banner line and swung them into the shadows of a tight alley.
The smaller hunter stumbled to a halt, panting. "You know," she said between breaths, "you're making this way harder than it has to be."
Her hand reached toward her mask. "No one even knows who you are here. Just take it off already."
"You don't know that," the taller hunter muttered, eyes scanning the rooftops. "I'd rather not end up on another wanted poster. I just got off the last list."
The smaller hunter groaned and removed her mask. A tumble of warm brown hair fell over her shoulders, cheeks flushed pink from the cold—and maybe from the thrill. "Fine. But now it's your turn."
Emilia reached out, hands trembling with excitement. "Come on. Hand it over."
With a sigh, the taller hunter relented and removed her mask, revealing delicate, angular features and the soft curve of pointed ears. Her expression remained cool despite the reveal.
Emilia's eyes widened, practically glowing. "My elf prince," she breathed, slipping the mask halfway onto her face. "It's perfect."
"I'm a lady," the taller hunter said, deadpan.
Emilia blinked. "Doesn't matter. Not even a little."