Two men strode through this living nightmare as though they were walking through a public garden. Neither looked afraid. One looked... annoyed.
The first man was clad head to toe in armor—cold steel and precision embodied. His breastplate gleamed like a mirror beneath the dappled light, each step measured and deliberate, as if calculated to the heartbeat.
Beside him glided a young man with pink hair, moving like a noble attending a royal gala. His rose-colored locks shimmered beneath the canopy's glow, and his red eyes flickered with playful irritation.
"Hmph! How much longer before it shows up?" he grumbled, clearly bored. His embroidered robes were far too delicate for this environment, yet he moved through it untouched—as though the forest itself dared not soil his elegance.
Minutes passed.
"After this ridiculous task, I deserve a day locked in with good wine and silence," the pink-haired man muttered. Then, reconsidering, he mused aloud, "Actually, maybe something fun. Spa? Shopping spree? A trip abroad?"
KEKEKEEE—!
A monstrous spider, the size of a horse, lunged from the treetops. Its hairy legs blurred through the air, venom dripping from twitching fangs.
Too fast for a normal man to see.
But not for him.
His crimson eyes tracked the motion with lazy precision. He exhaled softly—
SLASH!
The spider split clean down the middle, black blood splattering across the moss. In a blink, the man stood several steps past it—as if he had teleported—his dagger spinning elegantly between his fingers.
Still clean. he noted with satisfaction.
"Hmmm. Spa it is," he sighed. "Too many options truly is a curse."
They were Commander Narcissus, head of the Twelfth Affiliate and Commander Thaddeus, leader of the Second. Two of Grand Duke Aristotle's Twelve Commanders. Elite, seasoned, and almost mythic in reputation.
They were deep within the heart of the world's most treacherous terrain:
Greenville Forest.
Towering trees blanketed the sky, their branches woven like cathedral arches, sunlight breaking through in golden threads. The foliage was lush, vibrant—overwhelming in its beauty, and utterly deceptive. What looked like paradise was, in truth, a deathtrap.
This forest was not ruled by man, but by monsters.
S-ranked beasts—untamed and merciless—roamed its depths. No road dared cut through it. No village lingered near its borders. For generations, even the Kingdom of Ardan, within whose territory the forest technically lay, chose to ignore it. Greenville was a cursed jewel—feared, forsaken.
That is, until five years ago.
A man of extraordinary strength rose from obscurity and claimed Greenville for himself. He declared its independence, fortified its perimeter, and forged a Grand Dukedom unlike any other. Under his rule, the people no longer feared the forest—they prospered beside it. Technology met discipline. Faith met force. And now, Greenville was one of the most advanced and secure territories on the continent.
Yet the heart of the forest remained untouched.
There, the legendary Silverwood grew—trees of unbreakable, fireproof bark. Only a Grandmaster could cut it. And there was only one in Greenville: Grand Duke Aristotle.
REEE—!
A hulking beast—half bear, half reptile—burst from the undergrowth.
Before Narcissus could even raise a finger, its head rolled across the moss.
Behind the body stood Thaddeus, his sword humming faintly with blue light.
Narcissus tilted his head, unbothered."What do you think? Shopping or a spa?" he asked airily.
Thaddeus didn't respond."There it is," he said instead.
Before them stood a Silverwood tree—each trunk of silver wood rose like a pillar of moonlight, its surface gleaming with a soft inner glow. The bark appeared to be made of liquid metal frozen mid-flow, rippling faintly as if breathing. Its leaves were translucent, catching light and turning it into silvery mist that shimmered around the branches.
Narcissus groaned. "This is going to take forever."
Then the wind shifted.
From above, the forest canopy exploded as a massive shadow plummeted like a missile. A Headless Hawk—not truly headless, but infamous for decapitating prey mid-flight—dove toward them. An A-ranked predator. Savage. Swift.
Time slowed.
Narcissus's lips curled into a smirk. Ooo, let's see how tough this one is.
The hawk struck, wings slicing through the air—its beak clamped shut on nothing but air.
"Hahah!" Narcissus's laughter echoed from above.
He spiraled through the air, graceful as a dancer, before driving his heel into the hawk's skull with devastating force. The impact thundered. The creature screeched, wings flailing violently.
It never got the chance to recover.
From the ground, Commander Thaddeus stepped into its path.
SHING!
One clean stroke.
The head hit the earth before the body collapsed. Without a word, Thaddeus sheathed his sword and kept walking, as though swatting a fly.
"I find it strange," he said in a low voice, "that we haven't encountered any high-tier beasts."
Narcissus landed beside him without a sound, arms crossed, crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.
"How about this," he said—ignoring Thaddeus completely—"you dig, I carry."
Thaddeus didn't answer.
The air shifted again—too still. Even the insects had gone silent. A warning hum crawled down his spine.
Slowly, he raised a finger to where his lips would be beneath the helmet—a silent command for silence.
Narcissus's smile faltered for the first time."Someone's watching," he murmured. "Five someones."
And they weren't ordinary fools. A-rank or above.
No. Higher than that.
Weapons drawn, both commanders stood poised like statues. Then the intruders emerged.
Five men in desert robes. Their white garb clashed violently with the lush green. Skin sun-kissed, eyes sharp beneath veils. But one stood bare-faced in the center—raven-haired, tan-skinned, mid-forties, calm, handsome.
Too calm.
Narcissus's red eyes gleamed with Malevolence. No one dressed like that except those from the desert. And no one lived there—except the Lafang Kingdom.
The man raised his hands. "I bring no harm. My name is Caius-Jude Lafang—"
Both commanders tensed. Lafang?
"—diplomat of Pharaoh Lafang. On his behalf, I come bearing urgent news for Grand Duke Aristotle."
A scroll emerged. Even from afar, the gold-cross seal blazed with divine authority.
Lafang.
The closed-off kingdom. Holy. Untouchable. The fact that anyone from there spoke to foreign rulers was… shocking.
Thaddeus's mind raced.The seal is real. The signature authentic. Their dialect—perfect. This man may truly be who he claims.
He lowered his sword—slightly."Very well. We will escort you to His Grace."
Caius-Jude smiled. Then his gaze caught the Silverwood."Oh! The fabled tree that neither burns nor breaks?"
"Yes, Your Highness," Narcissus began. "Now, if you would kindly—"
CRACK.
The Silverwood split cleanly at its trunk and toppled with a muted thud.
No one had touched it.
Narcissus and Thaddeus froze. A spark of lightning flickered across Caius-Jude's fingertips—too fast for most eyes, but not theirs.
Narcissus glanced at Thaddeus. An atmokinetic?
Thaddeus gave the slightest nod. He's under Pharaoh's orders. He means no harm. But he's a Grandmaster. One I cannot face. I must tread carefully.
With composed calm, Thaddeus bowed deeply, removing his helmet. Ginger hair glinted beneath the filtered sun; his sharp eyes did not waver."Your Highness," he said. "If you would please follow us—Greenville awaits."
Word of Lafang's envoy spread like wildfire. Within a week, every throne on the continent stirred.
--
Far west, footsteps echoed across the polished jade floors of the Sun Empire's grand hall. Six figures entered—five warriors clad in desert-forged armor, and at their center, a striking man in white robes trimmed with sand-gold.
The chamber itself was a statement of supremacy. Gold-trimmed pillars soared toward a ceiling etched with the empire's history. Stained glass scattered molten rays over the crimson carpet leading to the twin thrones of Emperor Wu Zhang and Empress Liling—sovereigns of unmatched dominion.
Even the air was heavy with reverence. Guards in obsidian armor stood like sentinels of war, their very stillness exuding lethal precision.
Caius-Jude felt it—the pressure, the weight of their legacy.He straightened, masking unease with a diplomat's poise.
Behind the thrones, three radiant heirs stood like constellations—a prince and princess. The green-eyed prince watched sharply, and the violet-clad princess lowered her gaze just as curiosity flickered in her eyes.
Jude bowed low and delivered his message.
The Emperor and Empress were silent marble; their children, however, could not conceal the ripples beneath. A clenched jaw. Widened eyes. A storm, restrained.
Far to the north, winter held its breath. In a palace carved of sapphire and frost, the King of the Torvane Dominion sat unmoving, his expression as frigid as the air itself. His sons—tall, elegant, otherworldly—exchanged glances that said what words could not.
But across the hall, one figure did not move. A man with half-white, half-black hair and glacial eyes, whose stare could pierce truth from silence. Logic bound him; emotion did not touch him. And yet—somewhere deep behind that calm—something flickered.
Across the waters, the sea murmured its unrest.In the opalescent throne room of Waterland, the King and Queen leaned forward as the words from Lafang were read. Their twin sons, both broad-shouldered and beautiful, traded looks of confusion and caution.
"Why now?" whispered the blonder one.His brother's gaze stayed fixed on the messenger. "Because the world is shifting," he murmured.
The tide outside roared, as if echoing the thought.
To the south, a different kind of heat burned.In the Phoenix Kingdom, flames crackled in the hearth as King Richard III and Queen Charlotte sat in quiet disbelief.
Beside them, their son—young yet regal, golden-haired and radiant as sunlight—broke the silence."Father?!"
The king closed his eyes. "My predecessors warned me this day would come," he said softly. "And now, here it is."
The flames hissed. None dared reply.
And in the far east, where gardens met power and petals masked politics, the Kingdom of Ardan stirred. King Marovelle's face hardened."Call the advisors. Now."
His pink-haired son stood stunned, before he clenched his jaw.
Finally, beneath a cathedral of living vines and crystal light, sat the Grand Duke of Greenville. No crown. No ornaments. Only the quiet authority of a man who ruled because even nature bowed to him.
Grand Duke Aristotle watched the envoy in silence. His soldiers—each more dangerous than the next—stood like specters around the chamber. One folded his arms, gaze sharp and cold.
Even the forest beyond seemed to lean closer, listening.
Then, at last, the Duke spoke. One word, soft but commanding.
"Interesting."
To Aristotle, men like this envoy were puzzles wrapped in politeness. Too calm. Too measured. The kind who carried hidden knives beneath words like faith and peace.
Still, he mused, even knives had their uses—if handled correctly.
The chamber held its breath. Even the vines seemed to lean closer.
Aristotle's voice, when it came, was low and deliberate—a scalpel, not a sword.
"Send word to Lafang," he said. "Write this:'Greenville welcomes the return of Lafang. We shall receive you with open arms.'"
A pause followed—brief, but heavy.
One of the Lafang envoys hurried to transcribe the words, his parchment trembling faintly.
"If that is all, Your Grace," he said with a bow, "we will depart at once."
Aristotle tilted his head, the ghost of a smile brushing his lips."So soon? Not even a night to rest? The desert winds must have hardened you."
He leaned back, his voice smooth as glass."You're welcome to stay. My court will prepare the finest quarters."
Then he raised a hand. His aged adviser stepped forward—stooped, but sharp-eyed, the kind of man who didn't need words to command obedience.
"Escort them," Aristotle said. "Take twenty of the royal guards. See to it that they reach the border unharmed."
The adviser bowed and turned. The room stirred—soft boots shifting, leather creaking, the quiet hum of disciplined movement.
"Oh—one final matter," Aristotle added, his tone cooling as the envoys neared the great doors.
The air shifted.
Weight pressed down—silent, invisible, crushing.
Even the torches flickered, their flames bowing low.
The Lafang envoys froze. Muscles tensed. Lungs strained.
Aristotle's eyes glowed faintly—silver and cold. His aura rolled across the room like a rising tide, calm but merciless.
Only one man stood firm. He met Aristotle's gaze without flinching.
The others followed, trembling—but refusing to bow. Step by step, they straightened their backs beneath the weight.
For a heartbeat, the Grand Duke watched them—measuring, testing. Then the pressure dissolved, leaving only stillness behind.
"No one enters the Greenville Forest without my consent," he said, his voice like frost spreading across glass."I shall overlook this once—but only once."
A tense silence followed—cold and absolute.
"Of course, Your Grace. Please pardon our transgression," Caius-Jude replied smoothly, bowing low.
Then, wordlessly, the envoys of Lafang bent their heads once more and departed the throne room.
--
"What is it you wish to tell me?" Prince Xian asked, his voice calm but clipped.
Yichen gave a sly smile. "Straight to the point. I like that." His eyes wandered across the spacious suite.
It was more a private residence than a dorm, yet the chamber felt cold, stripped of warmth or clutter. A single couch. A low tea table. No portraits, no ornaments. Nothing but shadow and silence.
Earlier, Yichen had conjured a column of frost-smoke to carry them here. Through that haze, his voice had murmured: I bear news on your father's behalf.
Now, within Elyndor Academy's grounds, the two faced one another.
"You keep little here, Your Highness," Yichen remarked as he sank onto the couch with a sigh. "Most royals drown themselves in gold and silk. Your chambers feel… empty."
Xian ignored the jab, his gaze fixed on the tall window where his reflection wavered against the darkening sky.
I should not have let him in.
"Why did you duel that amateur? Especially going as far as conducting it illegally, you would have been reprimanded by the school and your father wouldn't be pleased,"
Xian said nothing.
"You're not one to seek attention or humiliate others for sport," Yichen pressed. "So what compelled you?"
Truthfully, Xian had no answer. Truth is: One moment he had been training; the next, the boy had challenged him. He'd accepted without thought—then immediately regretted it. Yet once he'd given his word, there was no retreating.
Changing the conversation, he asked, "How is my sister?"
Yichen stretched lazily, folding his arms behind his head. "Feisty as ever. She's doing everything in her power to keep Meilin from marrying a man of influence."
"I see." Xian's tone grew colder still. "Make certain she does not overstep. Unnecessary conflict serves no one… and opposing Father never ends well."
Yichen chuckled lowly. "I always keep her in check."
The silence that followed was taut, a wire stretched thin. Impatience gnawed at Xian's composure.
"And my brother?" His voice softened, almost imperceptibly.
He had not received a single letter from his brother in weeks.
"Thriving," Yichen replied smoothly. "Carrying himself as a crown prince should. The Emperor's expectations are immense, yet he fulfills them without falter. He's so busy now he scarcely has time for anything else."
"I see." For the first time, Xian's gaze softened against the darkened window. His brother bore the full weight of expectation, his every move dissected and criticized. He had clawed his way into his father's favor, building a reputation through blood and resolve. But enemies circled like vultures, waiting for him to stumble.
And their father knew very well what was going on and does nothing.
Xian's reflection hardened again. "And the others?"
The last word dripped like venom.
Yichen's smile thinned. He understood exactly whom Xian meant. "Your father favors you and your brother. They have no choice but to stay within their boundaries-as the should."
Xian inclined his head once.
"You needn't worry," Yichen continued. "It's obvious your father has a soft spot for you both."
"That favor exists only because of our accomplishments," Xian replied flatly. "Should the others surpass us, his allegiance will shift as easily as the wind. I cannot depend on him. Only on my own strength."
Yichen tilted his head in acknowledgment.
"Which is why you must keep my sister in line," Xian added after a pause. "She reacts… too passionately at times."
Yichen leaned forward, elbows braced against his knees. His pale blue eyes locked onto Xian's, sharp as a blade. The smirk that touched his lips was not warm, but predatory.
"I know," he said softly. "I would have done so regardless of your command. Because it is my duty…"
The silence stretched, heavy.
"… as one of her husbands."
Xian's gaze turned to stone. "Deliver the news at once."
The smirk faded from Yichen's face, replaced by something colder. "This message was not meant for official channels. A recent development has thrown rulers across the continent into disarray. That is why I came."
Xian narrowed his eyes.
"Your father's envoys are carrying the full report," Yichen continued, "but he wished you to hear it as soon as possible."
The wind outside seemed to still, the room holding its breath.
"What news?" Xian asked at last. For the first time, a crack of impatience laced his voice. Rare, for the prince known for his silence and measured judgments.
Yichen's expression turned grave.
"Three days ago, a party arrived unannounced at your father's court," he said. "They wore desert cloaks, sand-stained boots, and bore the crest of a kingdom thought buried in time."
Xian's gray eyes darkened.
"The delegation was led by the younger brother of ruler of the Lafang Kingdom."
Xian's breath caught.
"They delivered a single message that silenced the entire court." Yichen rose to his feet, his voice dropping into something like a verdict.
Xian turned and eyed Yichen.
"The Kingdom of Lafang," Yichen said slowly, "is reopening its borders."
Time stopped. Blood roared in Xian's ears.
"They will no longer remain isolated," Yichen pressed. "Trade, war, alliances… the Lafang Kingdom is returning to the world stage."
But Xian couldn't move. He was frozen, rooted to the floor as if the very shadows around him had turned to stone.
Lafang — the kingdom of devout believers. The kingdom said to hold more elemental users than all others combined.....and they were coming back.
Yichen chuckled darkly. "I wore the same expression when I heard."
But Xian remained frozen. The Lafang royals… the only bloodline in the world to wield Atmokinesis. The ability to control the weather.
They were rejoining the world.
"Your father requests your immediate return," Yichen finished.
--