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Chapter 16: The Theocracy of Lurtra Receives a Landless King
> "For me to go against a nation... I need one of my own."
Leornars leaned back in his chair, eyes skimming over the faded parchment of available quests on the guild board. As he flipped through them lazily, his ears caught whispers from a group of higher-ranked adventurers nearby.
> "Another adventurer was attacked last night, just outside the church."
"You think it's the Black Acer again?"
"Has to be. That killing method... no doubt."
The group exited the guild hall, their steps hurried and cautious. Leornars's expression shifted—subtle, but sharp. A smirk curled the corner of his lips.
> "Heh… now that's interesting."
Without much thought, he plucked a low-tier herb-gathering quest from the board. Stacian sighed but took the slip to the receptionist anyway. Moments later, they were out of the guild and heading toward the nearby forested hills.
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Under the mellow sun, the pair combed the forest edges, quietly plucking the needed herbs.
"Stacian von Whatsoever," Leornars suddenly said, brushing dirt from a glowing leaf. "Tell me about this world. Its foundations. And the power players holding it up."
The sudden question made her blink, caught off guard.
"…Alright." She straightened up and began, her voice clear yet thoughtful.
> "This world is called Miltz Ulria. It's divided into four main continents.
First, the Demon Continent, the largest. Then, there's Ultoria, where we are now—home to four nations: Durmount, Lurtra, Seraphim, and Stamvolech.
The third is the Ulria Continent—a haven for demi-humans like elves, dwarves, beastkin, and spirits.
Finally, there's Kultolvia, my homeland. The continent of legends—the Heavenly Kings, Demon Lords, and the holy and cursed bloodlines of Avantalian and Avantris."
Leornars nodded along silently, prompting her to continue with a look.
> "The gods created this world and left its management to the Monarchs of Concept. These monarchs then birthed the Heavenly Kings, who govern balance.
But... demons are the remnants of a fallen Dark God. Avantalian and Avantris bloodlines descend from him. My race—the White Demons, or Holy Demons—trace back to Minum, the Goddess of Life and Fertility."
A subtle hum escaped Leornars as he processed the structure of this world.
"And what of the Monarch who was sealed?"
Stacian looked hesitant but answered.
> "One Monarch was sealed over 2,000 years ago... The others feared his vision. No one knows where he was hidden."
Leornars's eyes narrowed. That just confirms my suspicions...
"And blessings? These 'divinities' the gods offer?"
> "Blessings are divine contracts—unique powers granted by the gods. But abusing them halves your lifespan. It's a double-edged sword."
> "I don't care about the gods," Leornars thought coldly. "I care about power—mana and skills. The rest is noise. Strength equals destruction. Destruction... is freedom."
Suddenly, a rustle came from the bushes behind them.
In one smooth motion, Leornars flung a dagger.
A thud.
He calmly approached the source. A man lay on the ground, a knife still in hand—stabbed cleanly near his shoulder.
"Hmph... off by two inches," Leornars muttered. "I'll correct it next time."
He knelt, gripping the man's shirt.
"Who are you?"
The man coughed, blood on his lips, and fell to his knees.
> "Please… save my daughter. I—I don't have anything to offer, but take all I have. Enslave me if you must. Just… please…"
Leornars froze. His cold expression flickered. Memories surfaced—faint, but sharp.
A homeless man. A firelit night. A second chance, once offered to a boy thrown away.
His grip loosened.
"…Where is she? Who has her?"
The man explained, hurried and broken. Leornars placed the gathered herbs neatly on the ground.
"Stacian, mend him. I need to have a conversation with whoever dares to trade slaves in my world."
His irises shifted—red at first, then deepened to abyssal black. His aura exploded outward, dark and seething. The air around him warped; the ground decayed with each step.
Steam hissed between his teeth as his hair swayed in the darkening air.
> "Ascian. Bellian. Awaken."
The forest echoed with his voice like a roar from the underworld. Two undead emerged from the shadows, their hollow eyes locking onto their master.
> "They'll beg for death before I'm through with them," Leornars muttered, walking off like judgment itself.
The man behind collapsed in tears, bowing.
> "Thank you… Thank you…"
---
Meanwhile, in the Kingdom of Durmount
The training fields echoed with the clash of wooden swords. Sahara Kurnov practiced alone, sweat dripping from her brow.
"I wonder what happened to Leornars…" she murmured.
A stern voice interrupted.
> "Never say that name within these castle walls."
It was Princess Selrose, arms crossed.
"Huh? Why?" Sahara asked. "You know him?"
> "Know him?" Selrose scoffed. "He was summoned like you—a rarity. The king saw his potential and locked him up.
He escaped. Killed dozens. Then vanished.
Rumor says he was last seen in a nearby town. When our knights arrived, they found the lord dead… his daughter slain… and a Holy Demon missing. Witnesses claimed a white-haired boy took her."
Sahara blinked. "All that in how many days?"
> "Two weeks."
"…TWO WEEKS!?" she shouted.
> "He's considered either our greatest threat… or our last hope, depending on who you ask."
Sahara stared at her.
"You tried to enslave him," she said flatly.
Selrose laughed bitterly. "Yeah… we're in trouble."
As Sahara looked up at the sky, her hand tightened on her sword.
> "Leornars… where are you now?"