The royal family of Herish, known as the empire's artisans, was considered to be the best blacksmiths that could rival the dwarves in creating weapons for mass destruction.

Most of their crafts were treasured in the empire, especially when it came to swords. A sword made by a member of the family was powerful enough to cause unwanted fights from inside the kingdom, and the weapons created by the king himself were always the subject of war within the empire.

Almost all of the families and organizations wanted to get the approval of the king, for them to at least take a peek inside the kingdom's treasury, but the gates of the castle cannot be opened with that alone; it didn't welcome those who weren't worthy to wield the kingdom's pride.

Then, every year on a particular day of the same month, the founding anniversary of the Herish Kingdom became the key to unlocking the treasury. An event was held, and the victor would have a chance to get an item from the treasure chamber.

This became such a special event that even the empire's palace sent a representative to attend.

"Your Highness, the empire's envoy will arrive tomorrow afternoon," a man said; he was the royal family's confidant and head butler.

"Who have they sent this time?" The king asked while looking at himself in a mirror.

"It's the next in line for the throne, the crown prince," the confidant replied with a calm voice.

"Does the empire want to wage war with us? Tell Tigrid to come back before the festival starts; I need him to protect the man," he stated his command.

Then they heard knocks at the door, and the confidant took a look outside the king's quarter and went back inside with a letter in his hand.

"Your Highness, a report from the commander of the third battalion has arrived; would you like me to read it?" He asked.

The king nodded upon hearing the words, and his expression lit up; after all, he had been waiting for this. He knew Tigrid's capabilities, and the mission he gave the man was like a walk in the park for someone like him.

However, contrary to his expectations, the man he was so proud of was defeated and died at the hands of an unknown person.

He came to the confidant, grabbed the letter, and read it himself.

"What kind of nonsense is this?" He asked, and anger was evident in his voice.

The content of the report made him gulp several times; it was written in detail, and each of the scenes appeared in his mind and sent shivers through his body.

Then, he paused for a second upon reading the part that addressed the man's unique weapon.

"A dice?" he uttered, "changing to different kinds of weapons," he read the line again, and he looked at his confidant. Its unique characteristic aroused his curiosity as a blacksmith.

"It's my first time hearing about this, your Highness," he bowed, expressing his lack of knowledge.

He resumed his reading and shook his head as he looked through the last section of the report.

"Tell all of the knights not to mess with a silver-haired man with a red dice as an earring, but summon all the available diamond-class in the kingdom," he conveyed; the head butler bowed and left as he heard the king's orders.

He walked through the window of his room and observed the nightlife in his city. A lot of lights were still on despite the time, and this gave a lively atmosphere, perfect for the coming festival.

'To threaten me with mere words, let me show you first why I am the king of this place,' he thought, glaring at the endless night sky.

. . . . .

A few moments ago, Lux was watching Zeno from a distance, though he didn't know that the man he was tailing had already noticed his presence.

Then he saw him go out of the road and sit under a nearby tree. He contemplated whether he would approach the man or return to the capital.

The sun had already set, and he was sure that his master would search for him when he didn't arrive as he promised. He was about to leap from the pavement when he felt a familiar presence above him.

"At last, I found you," it came from a woman coming out of a portal, its color blended perfectly in the dark surroundings.

"Aichelle," Lux uttered as he levitated in the air. "What are you doing here?"

Aichelle put her hands on her waist and nagged at him.

"Are you for real? She's worried about you; it's already past the time you told her," she said, while rolling her eyes sideways.

The vampire smiled upon the mention of her mistress' reaction, and he pushed Aichelle back to the portal.

"Let's go then," he said while entering the gateway, but he took a glance in Zeno's direction, and he was surprised upon seeing the man looking at him.

In that flash of a second, their eyes met before Lux vanished inside the portal.

Zeno looked beside him; his palm had created a blemish on the ground; it was the result of his resistance to Lux's sudden doings. Then he lied on the grass, put his arms behind his head as a pillow, and stared at the glowing white orb full of craters above.

"This world has so much to offer now, hasn't it, Cinhard?" he uttered before closing his eyes to enter the temporary death called sleep.

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. . . . .

The night passed in a glimpse, and the sun rose above. The number of people entering the kingdom went up higher than before on this particular day because the festival would start exactly at midnight and this was their last chance to register for the upcoming events.

"It's so crowded here," Zeno sighed as he saw the long line of people and vehicles entering the large city gate.

Then he scanned the crowd and smirked upon seeing a man with a messed-up hairstyle waiting not that far from the entrance.

He walked towards the man and called him out.

"Hey Kizeler," he said.

The man looked at him, then his expression turned sour, and he placed his left hand on the hilt of his sword while he held the woman at her side on the arm with his other hand.

"Don't act like you know me," Kizeler replied, while he was busy searching for an answer in his mind.

'How did he know my name?' He thought.

Priscilla and Trix were beside Kizeler; they kept on guard upon seeing Zeno. The three of them had already heard what he did to Alex and Tigrid. Even if they didn't witness the battle, they were sure that it was Zeno, as they heard that the culprit had a red dice as an earring.

"Can I tag along with you guys?" Zeno asked, then looked at Trix, who was hiding behind Priscilla.

'I swear, he's too hot for a demon.' Trix felt her heart melt when he saw Zeno smiling at her.

"A demon has no place inside the capital," Kizeler murmured, doing his best not to attract attention. His hand was still on his sword.

Then, Zeno leaned closer to him before speaking.

"Do you remember what I asked you in the village?" He whispered while grinning.

"Don't tell me, you're thinking that this number of people is enough to pin me down. The things you've witnessed, those abilities you've seen, are only an ounce of what I'm capable of," Zeno added, his words leaving a deep impression on Kizeler.

He glared at the demon, but it was all he could do as of now; he chose to let go of his sword and calm his mind.

'It's not the time yet,' he thought, and made a huge sigh.

"Fine, you can come with us, but watch your actions," he said to Zeno, but Priscilla protested as soon as Kizeler gave the demon permission to come with them; however, Kizeler just looked at her and nodded.

"Then, thank you!" Zeno expressed his gratitude, and he slowly slipped himself behind Kizeler.

The man after Zeno wanted to complain, but the other mercenaries held him and pulled him away from the silver-haired man before he could do anything stupid.

He was greatly puzzled by his comrade's actions, but after knowing that the man before him was responsible for Tigrid's death, he ran to the end of the line, making sure that he was far enough away not to get caught once a fight broke out.

Soon enough, Kizeler's group passed the screening process at the city's gate; however, the soldiers were looking at Zeno with such contempt.

They all knew who Zeno was; after all, the king had ordered them not to mess with this person.

Zeno was amazed by the buildings inside the giant walls, some of the structures here didn't exist yet on the day he was sealed. He let his eyes roam around the place.

However, Priscilla couldn't help but peek at her back, she was not comfortable, knowing a demon was walking behind her.

"Ahmm, W-why a-are you still with us?" Despite her fear, she still asked, though she stuttered a little.

"Festivals are the best when celebrated with others, am I right, Trix?" Zeno replied, then looked at Trix from behind.

The merchant felt shivers all over her body upon hearing the demon calling out to her; she was so frightened that she didn't even question how Zeno knew her name.

"Y-yes," she answered.

Meanwhile, Kizeler was still on guard, he didn't forget the fact that they were being accompanied by a demon, and if things went wrong, he was ready to sacrifice himself to let Priscilla run away with Trix.

'Is this what being a hostage feels like?' he thought.

Then, they reached a massive group of people lining up in four columns in a stall; most of them were mercenaries. They were registering for the main event of the festival, the Weaponry Duel Tournament.

Each of the participants had different kinds of weapons; there were spears, bows and quivers, and even a sickle.

"Go register yourself, Priscilla; we'll wait for you here," Kizeler said. "Come with her, Trix."

Priscilla turned around and faced Kizeler.

"How about you?" She asked.

"I won't be participating this time," he replied, and then he signaled at Trix to pull Priscilla into the registration booth.

"It looks fun, though, all of the people here would die in just a flick of my finger," Zeno stated while his eyes were still busy roaming around.

"Don't try it; a representative from the empire will be here soon, along with people from the other kingdoms. Unless you want to be considered a public enemy, then feel free to do so," Kizeler said, and he looked at Zeno, waiting for his response, but the man didn't bother himself to reply to him.

Then seconds passed, and they heard Priscilla's voice among the mass of participants.

. . . . .