Count Morgan's laughter shattered the stillness of the underground chamber.
It was not the restrained chuckle of a noble, but the unhinged laughter of a man who believed the world already belonged to him. The sound echoed violently against the black stone walls, causing several of the chained slaves to flinch in fear.
Then—
Tap. Tap. Tap.
A slow, deliberate clap cut through his laughter.
"Well," a smooth female voice said, amused and sharp, "it seems your confidence has not diminished, Count."
Morgan's laughter died instantly.
From the shadows emerged Seaberry.
Her appearance was flawless—long silver-green hair, pale skin marked with faint elven runes, and eyes like polished emeralds devoid of mercy. She wore refined noble attire, yet the mana clinging to her body was tainted, twisted by forbidden contracts.
An elf.
One who had long ago sold her own people for power.
"You enjoy entering uninvited," Morgan said calmly, though his eyes narrowed.
Seaberry smiled. "Your wards are impressive. Unfortunately for you, I helped design half of them."
She stepped closer, glancing briefly toward the slave cages below. Her gaze lingered on the elven captives—not with pity, but calculation.
"The market is tightening," she continued. "Too many disappearances. The forests are whispering. Even the Blackwood elders are uneasy."
Morgan scoffed. "Fear keeps them obedient."
Seaberry tilted her head. "Fear also draws attention. And attention invites heroes."
For a brief moment, something dangerous flickered between them.
---
REF Territory – The Same Day
Far from the rot beneath the capital, Kael stood inside a bustling adventurer's guild hall within REF Territory. Unlike the polished corruption of noble courts, this place thrummed with raw energy—steel, mana, ambition, and sweat.
He rested a hand on the quest board, eyes scanning the parchment pinned near the center.
[Urgent Request – Investigation]
Village Name: Gesture
Details: Multiple disappearances. No signs of struggle. Scouts missing.
Status: Unresolved.
Kael frowned.
Too quiet. Too clean.
"This one," he said firmly.
The guild receptionist blinked. "Gesture Village? That's near the outer trade routes. No monster reports, no raids—just people vanishing."
"Those are the worst kinds," Kael replied.
As he turned away, his thoughts drifted inward.
Luminor would already see the pattern.
Luminor—his closest companion and a Keeper-class genius. One of the rare few granted access to the Divine and Celestial Library, a place where knowledge itself was alive. Even now, Luminor was constructing something unprecedented: a magical transport system, capable of instant travel between marked locations.
If it works, Kael thought, distance will no longer protect our enemies.
---
Somewhere Beyond the Living Lands
Deep within a land where the sky itself seemed dead, Brown slowly turned the pages of an ancient tome bound in blackened bone.
Each page pulsed with dark magic.
He sat upon a throne of skulls, surrounded by absolute silence—an eerie calm enforced by the presence of 5.7 million undead bound to his will. Liches, revenants, skeletal legions, and abominations stood frozen across the wasteland, awaiting command.
"The time approaches," Brown muttered, tracing a sigil written in blood and ash.
The book trembled.
A new spell was forming—one that would not merely raise the dead, but rewrite obedience itself.
---
Forever-Flowing Blackwood Forest
Elian moved silently through the ancient trees, his elven senses strained.
Something was wrong.
The forest still flowed endlessly as it always had, leaves whispering secrets older than kingdoms. Yet the voices were fewer now. Too many were missing.
He had spoken to elders, scouts, and wardens.
All said the same thing.
Elves were disappearing.
No bodies.
No signs of battle.
No magic residue.
"They are being taken," Elian whispered grimly. "And not by beasts."
His grip tightened around his weapon.
Kael needs to know.
As unseen forces began to pull at the edges of the continent—cult, necromancer, corrupted elves, and silent vanishings—the threads of fate drew tighter.
And somewhere between shadow and light, the Celestial Heir was walking straight toward the storm.