The Empire of Prusha, a titan among the nations of Ghed, stood as a testament to power, influence, and strategic brilliance. The continent, named after its original four dominant races—Giants, Humans, Elves, and Dwarves—was a land of rich history and ancient conflict. Although the Giants had been long extinct, their legacy lived on in the name and lore of the continent.

Prusha, the largest empire, was a land of towering cities, perilous dungeons, and, most notably, three prestigious magic towers. These towers, beacons of arcane knowledge, housed countless magicians and scholars. Among them, the tower in the southwest was the most renowned, doubling as a magic institute and the center of magical education in the empire. Its prominence was due in large part to the formidable Cornelius Un Navis Tiem, a name that resonated with power throughout the empire and beyond.

Cornelius was not just the headmaster of this institute but the mastermind behind Prusha's rise to unparalleled strength. As the leader of the Alliance, a coalition of powers within Ghed, he wielded his influence with unmatched skill, often manipulating the empire's course from the shadows. Despite the absence of an emperor or empress, the council of elders—of which Cornelius had once been the most influential member—followed his lead. Even after stepping down from the council to focus on the Alliance, his word carried the weight of law.

The controversial policy that solidified Prusha's supremacy was Cornelius' brainchild. By intentionally allowing certain dungeons to break and unleash their monstrous hordes, he created a crucible in which the empire's soldiers and adventurers were forged into superior warriors. This policy, while dangerous, had dramatically increased the average level and combat prowess of Prusha's system users, setting them far above those of other nations. However, his attempts to spread this strategy across the Alliance met with resistance, as few others were willing to take such extreme risks.

Cornelius himself was a relic from a bygone era, a Rune Elf born over three millennia ago. As one of the few surviving High Elves, his longevity granted him a perspective few could match. He was a veteran of countless battles, including the legendary confrontation with the Skeleton King two thousand years prior. He was one of the four heroes who had driven the dark lord into retreat, though the scars of that battle lingered in the memory of the world.

The other three members of that fateful party had taken divergent paths. Gobrick Blackmail, hailed as the strongest ascendant, had vanished from public life, leaving his affairs to his son, Dhoral, who found the Alliance's concerns beneath him. Isobel of Divine Order, a self-proclaimed emissary of the God of Light, was as difficult and quarrelsome as ever, clashing with everyone over matters both trivial and significant. And then there was Gawain, Cornelius' twin brother and Vampire Lord, who had long since severed ties with him and withdrawn into seclusion.

As Cornelius sat at the head of the round table, his ageless eyes scanned the gathered figures of influence and power. Each attendee could alter the course of history, whether by sword, magic, or sheer will. Some were there out of obligation, others out of fear, and still others—like Isobel—seemed intent on causing discord. The air was thick with tension and anticipation.

With his hands clasped together, fingertips touching in a gesture of calm calculation, Cornelius prepared to steer the meeting toward his goals. Though they were here as allies, the undercurrents of rivalry and ambition ran deep. This gathering of the world's most powerful figures could either solidify the Empire's dominance or plunge it into chaos. Cornelius, ever the tactician, was determined to ensure it would be the former.

Cornelius sat in silence, listening as the meeting spiraled under the influence of the current speaker. She had seized control of the room, her voice a sharp blade cutting through any opposition as she pressed her agenda, attempting to sway the others to her cause. It was a cause that, on the surface, seemed righteous, but Cornelius knew better. Her intentions were far from pure.

She’s always been like this, he thought, a trace of regret flickering in his mind. If only she weren't so twisted, she might have made a valuable ally. But this needs to stop before she goes too far.

"Isobel, that's enough! Stop trying to impose your agenda on everyone here!" Cornelius' voice rang out, cold and authoritative, cutting through the bickering like a knife. The room fell silent, and all eyes turned toward him. The woman he addressed—Isobel—slowly turned to meet his gaze, her expression as icy as his tone.

Isobel was striking, with long golden hair that fell sleekly down her back, a complexion as pale as marble, and eyes that blazed with an intensity like the sun. Her dress, ornate and revealing in white and gold, left little to the imagination, emphasizing her radiant yet imposing presence.

"Who... do you think you’re talking to?" Isobel’s voice quivered with outrage, disbelief lacing her words. "While you all have been cowering behind your precious walls, safe from the dangers that threaten us all, my Order has fought tirelessly, risking our lives every single day to purge this world of the undead scourge!" She looked around the table, her fiery gaze daring anyone to challenge her.

"And you, Cornelius," she continued, her voice dripping with scorn, "what have you been doing all this time? Once hailed as the strongest hero, now with Gobrick gone... all that power, wasted! You could have joined my cause, made a difference! But instead," she gestured grandly around her, indicating the tower and the empire beyond, "you’ve built this—a sanctuary for yourself while the rest of the world suffers!"

Cornelius rose from his seat, his movements slow and deliberate, commanding the room’s attention. He walked over to Isobel and stopped directly in front of her, his towering presence casting a long shadow. "Enough, Isobel. You speak of purging the undead? What do you really know about what I’ve done, or what needs to be done?" His voice was dangerously calm, each word measured and precise. "Your Order claims to cleanse the world, but from where I stand, you’ve been purging a lot more than just the undead. In fact," he leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper only she could hear, "your Order has become more of a threat to our world than the undead themselves. Don’t think for a moment that I can’t wipe out your so-called Divine Order. If I did, it would be a service to everyone here."

Isobel pushed herself off the table, her gaze locked with Cornelius, arms crossed defiantly. A cocky smile curled her lips as she replied to his provocation.

"Try it! Cunt!"

Cornelius’ eye twitched, his jaw clenched tightly. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, forcing himself to exhale slowly. Patience. Have patience, he repeated in his mind.

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"I'm not one of your lapdogs you can order around!" Isobel spat out, her tone venomous.

Cornelius, barely holding onto his composure, shot back, "No? Then stop acting like a bitch."

Before the tension could escalate further, a figure rose from his seat, cutting through the growing hostility. "Enough of you two," he said with an air of authority. "You summoned us here for a reason, Cornelius. Get on with it, or we're leaving."

Isobel snorted and sat back down, arms still crossed, while Cornelius turned his attention to the new speaker, his tone shifting from irritated to polite. "Of course, Wezar. You and Domino were summoned to resolve the small matter of Domino killing Ascendant Hefastos, the king of Aphiton Kingdom." Cornelius’ voice was smooth, but there was an undercurrent of tension.

"I take it there was an issue between your kingdom and Aphiton? A dispute over the mines, if I’m not mistaken?" Cornelius asked, his eyes flicking between Wezar and Domino, who were seated across the table.

Wezar looked at him incredulously, as if questioning Cornelius’ grasp of the situation. "Are you serious? Nefastos, with the help of this imbecile," he pointed accusingly at Kidllams, who was sitting a few seats away from Cornelius, "waged war against my kingdom."

Kidllams raised his arms in mock defense, clearly offended by the accusation. "I was merely fulfilling my contract with Nefastos. My task was to prevent other ascendants from interfering directly in the war—specifically to keep the prince out of harm's way, without killing him." With that, he summoned a parchment into his hands and passed it to Cornelius.

Cornelius skimmed through the contract, his expression unreadable. Meanwhile, Wezar’s focus remained on Kidllams.

"I don't care what deal you made," Wezar growled. "You attacked my men. By attacking them, you attacked me!"

Kidllams narrowed his eyes, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Instead of pointing fingers, Wezar, maybe you should be more concerned about your son, Tristan. Last time I saw him, he looked like he could use a hand…"

Wezar leaned back in his chair, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes crossing his face. Domino, in a fluid motion, melted into his shadow and reappeared silently behind Kidllams, his presence a looming threat.

"From what I heard, the last time you crossed paths with my son, it looked like you were the one needing a hand. I knew you were weak, but damn…" Wezar shook his head slowly, his eyes filled with mock pity as they locked onto Kidllams. The condescending look wiped the smirk off Kidllams' face. Just as he was about to retort, the door to the meeting hall creaked open, and the figure Cornelius had been waiting for finally arrived.

"Apologies for arriving late to the meeting." Tusk entered, offering no further explanation as he surveyed the hall, taking in the faces of the assembled participants. His presence was imposing, and as he made his way toward Kidllams, another figure quietly slipped in behind him, moving with the stealth of a shadow.

Wezar's anger flared upon seeing the newcomer, while Kidllams, sensing an opportunity, turned to Cornelius. "I take it the contract is valid and system binding?" he asked, seeking confirmation.

Cornelius nodded, his voice calm and authoritative as he confirmed aloud, "The contract is indeed written and signed in the language of the system, using runes. It is binding." The weight of those words hung in the air. While the contract wasn't unbreakable, the consequences for doing so were severe—death being the most frequent outcome. The fact that Kidllams was sitting there, unharmed, was proof that the contract had not been breached.

"Then, I'll take my leave first." Kidllams stood, his demeanor cool and collected as he turned to exit without so much as a glance at Wezar or Domino. As he passed Tusk, a faint smirk curled the corner of his lips—a gesture not lost on Wezar, whose gaze hardened in response.

Wezar sneered, his voice dripping with disdain as he addressed the room. "What's this now? This isn't a place where a frog like you can just waltz in," he said, his words clearly directed at the newcomer.

Cornelius swiftly interjected, drawing the attention back to himself. "Now, now, Wezar. I invited Mr. Tusk to join us because, like it or not, his business empire is making significant strides and influencing our everyday lives." He then turned to acknowledge the figure behind Tusk. "Mrs. Nerissa, you are more than welcome to join us at the table. And…if you’ve reconsidered joining the Alliance—"

"I'm fine where I am," she cut in briskly, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Domino returned to his seat beside Wezar, while Tusk took the place Kidllams had vacated. Nerissa stood directly behind him, her presence alone sending a loud and clear message to everyone at the table: Tusk was not to be underestimated.

With the current situation settled, Cornelius frowned at the turn of events. He hadn’t paid much attention to the war between Wezar and the Aphiton Kingdom, but the outcome was undesirable. "The Aphiton Kingdom is without a king and in disarray. We must take immediate action to prevent any further—"

"That won't be necessary," Wezar interrupted, his eyes fixed on Tusk. Cornelius's frown deepened at the interruption. "Explain."

Wezar finally broke eye contact after a few seconds and turned his attention to Cornelius, who was visibly displeased by the lack of decorum during the meeting.

"As you said, the Aphiton Kingdom needs a king. Since I'm responsible for its current state, it’s only right that I take responsibility for governing it as the new king."

Just as I thought. "Very ambitious, Wezar. Are you planning to expand your kingdom’s borders and become a major power?" Cornelius asked, concerned about the shift in balance that an expanded Wezar Kingdom would bring.

"No," Wezar replied. "I intend to leave our kingdoms’ borders as they are, for now, and have Tristan take the throne of the Aphiton Kingdom."

Whispers and discussions broke out around the table. Cornelius couldn't refute Wezar's proposal. Although he didn’t like giving Wezar more power, it would resolve many issues they planned to discuss in the meeting. None of the other participants voiced any complaints either, except for the orc sitting across from him.

"I don't think placing someone as young and inexperienced as Tristan on the throne is the best choice," the orc said. "With you absent most of the time, it would leave both kingdoms vulnerable if something were to happen."

"If something were to happen? You mean like an unexpected terrorist attack in the middle of the city during a festival?" Wezar’s tone was more of a statement than a question. He slowly rose from his seat, glaring at the orc. "And who would you suggest as the new king? Yourself?"

"Sure, why not? At least I have the experience. If not me, then the kingdom could be managed by the Alliance," the orc replied, adjusting the gauntlets beneath the sleeves of his suit.

"I see. And with Kidllams by your side, you would protect the kingdom’s interests against an invading neighboring kingdom?"

Tusk paused, considering the different outcomes depending on how he responded. I guess I'm testing the gauntlets.

"Sure, though we would first need to discuss the matter of the fortress at the border and the territ—"

slam whoosh

Tusk barely had time to blink before Wezar launched himself over the table, grabbed him by the collar of his suit, and hurled him against the wall. The impact was brutal, breaking a couple of Tusk’s ribs. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, but he grinned, only enraging Wezar further. Both men glanced at the ground as multiple runes flared to life. They exchanged a quick look before springing into action, trying to move before the spell could restrain them. Domino engaged Nerissa while Cornelius focused on channeling the restricting spell. The onlookers backed away from the table, watching the scene unfold with great interest.