"Sir," he asked, "you said Marcus is the second prince. What about the first?"
"The Crown Prince is leading the war in the East."
"Why are they here, then?"
The man leaned closer. "Because everyone needs the Song Empire's favor. They're rich, powerful, untouchable. Keeping them close is survival… unless you're him."
Ron frowned. "Him?"
"The Old Man," the shopkeeper whispered, almost reverently. "The living legend. The only man alive who could face every nation at once—and still chooses peace."
"Peace?" Ron muttered. "That old man looks more like he'd break bones for fun."
The shopkeeper laughed. "You've got it wrong. He's helped the poor across the world, countless times. He's a good man—just… strange."
Ron smirked. "Strange fits him well."
He thanked the shopkeeper and walked away. But before he reached his hotel, he felt a chill on his back. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Prince Marcus—the same young man from earlier—approaching him from across the street.
Ron's expression hardened. He turned, walking the opposite way. Marcus followed.
Ron sped up. So did Marcus.
The chase wound through narrow alleys until Ron slipped into an abandoned house. Marcus entered seconds later—only to find it empty. Dust hung in the still air.
The prince scanned the shadows, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. Nothing. After a moment, he sighed and turned back toward the castle.
High above, floating in silence, Ron watched from the sky, his cloak whispering in the wind.
"King of the Song Empire," he muttered, eyes narrowing into a razor's edge.
"What are you up to?"
Ron stepped onto the ground — when suddenly, a hand gripped his shoulder.
Instinctively, he spun around and threw a punch, but it was caught midair.
Ron's eyes widened at the sight before him.
"Old man?" he said in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"
"We need to talk," the old man replied calmly.
Before Ron could respond, the world around them twisted. A black hole opened beneath their feet, swallowing them whole.
When Ron opened his eyes again, he found himself sitting on a chair — floating in the middle of space. The old man sat across from him. All around them stretched an infinite cosmos: stars, galaxies, and drifting planets.
"So, old dude," Ron said, crossing his arms. "What was it you wanted to talk about?"
"I'll come to that," the old man replied. "But first, you need to polish your powers."
"Why? I'm already good. I can use Black Sorcery, and the Blade of Vengeance lets me control any element," Ron said confidently.
The old man shook his head. "No. It's time you learned something new — control over blood. It might not seem useful in the coming crisis, but it will be vital for what lies ahead. It'll open the path to new abilities."
Ron smirked and gave a thumbs-up. "Fine. Let's do it."
"This dimension," the old man said, glancing into the endless void, "exists beyond space and time. Even if we train here for a hundred years, when we return, not a single second will have passed."
The war room fell silent. A single torch flickered behind Alberto, casting long shadows across the map spread over the table.
"Marcus. Iris." His voice cut through the still air. "Gather everything you can about this kingdom—its military strength, its defenses… and that man who stood beside the old one. Ron."
Marcus exchanged a wary glance with Iris. "Are we… planning to attack this kingdom?"
Alberto's eyes burned with determination. "Yes. In three days, we march. My grandfather dreamed of conquering this land—now I'll make it a reality."
Marcus stepped closer to the map. "But what about the land itself?"
Alberto tapped a spot on the parchment. "That land is the key. With it, they could reach our capital in less than a week. We cannot allow that."
Iris lowered her gaze, her heart a storm of loyalty and love. Should she stand beside her father and brother… or protect the man she loved — the Prince of the Recroun Empire?
"Iris," Alberto's voice snapped her back to the present. "Focus on the old man. Find out who he truly is."
He turned to Marcus. "And you — uncover everything about this Ron."
Meanwhile…
Steam rose from a small ramen shop tucked in the corner of a quiet street. Ron sat alone, chopsticks halfway to his mouth, his expression frozen.
He blinked, a faint twitch at the corner of his eye.
"Damn," he muttered under his breath. "Who's talking about me this time?"