Chaos reigned supreme in the Imperial Palace of Holtsdar. Fire and smoke, terror and death, blood and ink, corpses and cloaks. With the damage purposefully kept at a minimal, the surrounding area of a once beautiful fortification now lay desolate and devastated.

In the midst of the conflict, no trace of laughter or mirth could be found. Standing alone before the crumbling building, Lord Minister Hirger took in the grim sight, every bit of it, with his lips drawn to a thin line.

Then he burst out laughing.

“Finally!” He screamed at nothing in particular. After years of meticulous planning, careful observation. All the promises he made and the handshakes he gave, the alliances he forged both in the open and in private. After all the effort, his time had finally come!

Though most of the planning, years in the making, had been thrown into the dumps due to some awfully convenient surprises. The cult was one of them. Their mission another.

Usurpation was no task for the weak, not one you would achieve without getting your hands dirty. He'd been ready to soak his hands in hot blood, anything for the future of Holtsdar. For his future of Holtsdar.

There was that, but then luck would have it that he wasn't the only one after the lives of the royal family.

So he simply let those ones do their job.

With the whole kingdom now in a political disarray, his countless promises and handshakes will provide wonderful fruition. At this point, all he simply had to do was sit back and watch everything play out in his favour. His well deserved favour.

A fine cause for his mirth, no?

He ambled to the palace, with the right swagger of the soon-to-be owner of the building. Though currently not a welcoming sight, it was nothing a bunch of labourers couldn't fix. Inside the grand hall, no signs of life could be found. Pillars had fallen, the ground cracked all around and littered with corpses from both races, the staircase leading up marred with a gaping hole in the centre. The place had always seemed a bit dull, maybe adding a few statues would do. He could also have an honorary statue of himself made. The Hero and King who drew the kingdom out from imminent peril.

Yes, that has a wonderful ring to it.

“Lord Hirger,” a deep set voice forced him out of his merry thoughts.

With a frown, he turned to see whom it was, only for a big smile to crawl back to his lips when their eyes met. He raised his arms as if to hug the human. “Sir Valerian! What fine work you have done here, I must say I am impressed.”

“The King and Queen have been confirmed dead,” though the human didn't seem particularly happy as he made his report. In fact, his face darkened even further as he continued. “You did not inform me about the monster hiding in your soldiers.”

Hirger blinked. “I'm not quite sure of what you mean.”

“Our Captain was the one who'd killed the Queen. But she was brutally murdered, decapitated with her body completely burned to ashes. Not even a single fibre or muscle was left behind.” He drew closer and stabbed a finger at him. “I'd wager not even your finest of soldiers are capable of this.”

Though he sensed the insult in the human’s words, it was true that none of their soldiers were capable of completely burning a body to nothingness without expending a massive amount of firepower. One that could leave a jarring wound on their mana flow. Not unless they received intensive mana training from the likes of the Sages in deep mountains.

But, of course, those were all lies. Mana training could only go so far. Those mountain men were clearly using some sort of cheat on themselves.

His smile started to fade slowly. “I'm afraid I have no clue on who this person is.” He'd never even heard of anything like that happening in the whole of the country. It really could've been a foreigner, but what would one being doing here, at this time, inside the palace?

It sounded a bit too convenient.

“I also don't believe the Queen was the cursed one.” Valerian added. “We were told the body would reduce to ash on its own after some time.” Confusion and anger prevailed on his face.

Hirger’s smile disappeared completely when a thought popped into his mind. They'd been forgetting someone this whole time! “What about the heir?” The one person that should be erased from this world if he wanted to rule in peace. “Did you kill the child?!”

“No reports of her death yet. She's nowhere to be found… Heavens above…” the realisation dawned on him too and he ran a hand through his straight black hair. “Haron!” He yelled, his voice reverberating through the hall.

The man likely to be Haron and some other white cloaks poured inside the hall from a nearby door. He stood straight like a board before them and saluted. “Sir!”

“Any news on the child?”

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“Not yet, sir! We've checked everywhere. It's possible she's no longer in the palace.”

“The dreads below burn that she's not here!” Hirger piped, anger and a bit of panic awash in him. Did they think they could hide the girl from him, those monarchs?! “She must've escaped through the underground passage! Send your men! I'll show you the entrance!” And he marched off.

But the others hesitated for a moment. “Underground passage..?”

“Just follow me!”

***

As bizarre as it sounded, there truly was a little village wedged within the walls of the underground passage of the King's palace. It looked so out of place, almost like an illusion, a fairly large square field filled with little huts made from scrap metal. The population could hardly be above fifty, mostly consisting of the elderly and some fairly grown youngsters.

With Sirf still soundly asleep on his back, Fall was led around by Gorr, the old man whom he'd bumped into earlier. He happily showed him the houses, said there wasn't enough space to set up shops so everyone sold their goods in their homes.

With no farm or any form of plant life in sight, he could hardly guess what it was that could be sold in the village. But every nystan he saw seemed healthy enough, with relatively clean clothes and signs of a simple lifestyle. Like peasants living in harmonious isolation.

And, given the diminutive population, it came as no surprise that everyone knew each other. “We're like a family, ya know?” Gorr said, a soft crease to his eyes as they were greeted by the inhabitants.

Fall didn't like what he saw one bit, though. No matter how he thought about it, it just didn't make sense for a civilisation to exist in a place like this. The more confusing fact was how they fed themselves. They would surely have to leave the tunnels to get some food, given the apparent lack of plants or animals. How did they leave, then? The entrance from the palace was out of the question. Perhaps they'd taken over the house at the other end of the passage. That could be the only logical reason.

His eyes carefully swept the place. At a simple glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary… if you ignored the whole idea of the village’s existence. But, as they made their way to Gorr’s house after he'd offered that they stay over to rest, he noticed a certain squat building to their right. Almost like a storehouse, it stood apart from the other buildings.

“Once ya get some rest, I'll get ya some of Old Sif’s soup. Her mildly sweet and hot soup is the best way to end a hard day, I tell ya!” Gorr was quite the chatty type, going on about the specialties of each person in the village. Including himself. “Quite good with the knife myself, ya see–”

“What is there?” Fall pointed right, at the small building.

The old man glanced quickly over then chuckled lightly. “Oh it's just where we store our food and other necessities, ya know? The ones that come in handy when all's dry in the house… My house is just over there!” He changed the topic immediately, rather keen on not having Fall's attention there for too long.

It was already too late though, for Fall already had a good plan to investigate. Something just didn't sit right with him about this place. The scars on his arms and upper body pulsed slightly in response to his suspicions.

With Gorr's house just a few meters away, and the storehouse even closer, Fall searched around for a nearby target. He found a small boy playing around with a metal toy tied to a string. The boy ran around in circles, dragging the toy behind him by the string, laughing alone.

Fall formed a small circle with his mouth and sucked in some hot air, his eyes fixed on the child. A little flame ignited inside his mouth and he made a quick blow. The transparent fire met the boy's hand in an instant and he let out a pained scream. He fell to the ground, rolling, weeping, his injured hand tightly gripped by the other one, his cries echoing in the enclosed field.

This alerted about half of the villagers, including Gorr. They ran over to him, all panic and sorrow. The old man hadn't even bothered to check if Fall had followed as he rushed to the boy's side, inspecting his scalding hand.

Fall watched them for a bit, observing how close they all seemed to be. Like a family… or like partners sharing the same sin.

He walked over to the storehouse. The door was unlocked, as if they felt there was no need. Either there were no thieves, or they didn't care about any theft done. Perhaps a sort of philanthropy on their part.

He pushed open the door and peeked inside. A putrid odour came gushing out and filled his nose. Sirf stirred with some discomfort on his back, clearly affected by the smell. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he saw the source of the horrible odour.

Bodies. Corpses mangled and butchered beyond recognition, with some missing limbs and others even heads. A few bodies were hanged on the wall opposite the door, their lower halves gone and their fronts open and the insides completely removed, leaving empty open ribcages.

Not the work of any beast or even a monster. This was practically a butcher's shop.

By the time he returned to the spot Gorr had left him, the boy had already been taken away and some of the elders remained, discussing with serious expressions heavy on their faces. His blank eyes studied them, now empty and unfeeling. His confusion, suspicions had been resolved… or nullified.

Gorr returned to him, not too bright as he was before the incident. “Boy got burned, don't know how. Can't even see the fire, and it's still eating at him. But he'll be alright. Now let's get–”

“I saw it.” He dropped the statement without any warning. “You could've just said it from start. We're your food.”

The netherman fell to a stunned silence, all light disappearing from his face. The footsteps earlier weren't of a passerby, but of a hunter observing his prey. The scars on his arms weren't from a battle, but from the nails of a struggling prey fighting with the last of their strength as they got butchered alive.

“Cannibals have no place in the Nether,” he searched for a safe place to keep Sirf, with her sleep still undisturbed, “I can see why you chose to settle here.” That explained why their young men and women were still around, in a place where they would've long since left to find jobs or a much better life.

“Guess I can't keep up the act anymore, eh?” Gorr's face contorted to a wicked smile befitting an evil fiend. But it didn't really change much, given that he was still about to die anyway.

“You were about to kill Sirf.” After finding suitable spot, Fall carefully laid Sirf down. She immediately adjusted into a more comfortable position, a bit of a smile on her lips. Dreaming, perhaps. “That isn't good. I'm protecting her.”

He readied his right hand, his transparent fire rising from his feet to cover both him and Sirf. For her, it would be a blanket. Warm to her, searing to others. “So you die. All of you.”

Gorr reached behind and drew out two broad bladed daggers. With a quick flex, both daggers were immediately engulfed in blood red hungry fire. “Let's see about that.”