The tension inside the Umbound hideout was palpable, heavy like the calm before a thunderstorm. Sumshus, sitting in a worn leather chair with a slight slouch, tapped his fingers impatiently on the armrest. His sharp gaze shifted to Beily, who leaned casually against the wall, exuding his usual air of cocky nonchalance.

“Anuel has taken too long,” Sumshus said, his voice carrying a faint undertone of worry. “Freeing a few Earthers shouldn’t be this difficult.”

Beily smirked, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m less worried about Anuel and more interested in those Elvheins cracking the stone. Once they do, things will finally get interesting.”

Sumshus frowned. “All you care about is fighting.”

He shifted his gaze toward Daiel, who lounged lazily on a long chair nearby. Daiel, a Dragoon with fiery red skin, vibrant orange hair, and molten red pupils, wore an expression of disinterest. Despite his shared heritage with Omfry, his demeanor was the polar opposite—calm to the point of indifference.

“Where is Anuel?” Sumshus asked sharply, his irritation beginning to surface.

Daiel yawned, stretching out leisurely. “She’s probably still in Oustar. Last I heard, she was with Festron.”

Sumshus leaned forward, his tone hardening. “I’m asking where she is exactly, Daiel.”

Daiel tilted his head lazily, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “And how am I supposed to know? Do you think I have a magical tracking device?”

Sumshus’s expression darkened. “You have the ability to open portals. How don’t you know where she is?”

With a low growl, Daiel snatched a glass bottle from the table beside him and hurled it toward Sumshus. The bottle shattered mid-air as Sumshus flicked his wrist, a thin barrier of green energy effortlessly absorbing the impact.

Daiel scoffed. “And what of it? I can take people places, that's all I can do. If you’re so concerned, go look for her yourself, lover boy.”

Beily burst into laughter, stepping forward and placing a hand on Daiel’s shoulder. “You’ve got to aim better, buddy,” he teased, motioning toward where the shattered bottle fragments had fallen. “But as your friend, let me be honest with you.”

Beily gestured dramatically, raising his hand high into the air. “Anuel is here.” Then, with an exaggerated pause, he slowly lowered his hand to his waist, smirking as he pointed at Sumshus. “And you, my friend, are… here.”

Turning with an exaggerated shrug, Beily began to walk away, his grin smug. “Just saying.”

Sumshus’s patience snapped. With a quick flick of his fingers, a miniature green twister erupted from his palm, slamming into Beily and sending him flying across the room. Beily hit the wall with a loud thud, groaning as he slid to the floor.

Not far from the commotion, Dreados sat at a bar table, his massive frame hunched forward slightly. He stared intently at a small clock in his hand, his sharp, calculating eyes betraying none of his thoughts. Setting the clock aside, he pulled out a sleek, pen-like device and spoke into it.

“Anuel, where are you?” His voice was calm but carried a hint of edge.

Silence greeted him.

“Anuel, is everything okay?” Dreados asked again, his tone hardening slightly.

Still no response.

Before he could press further, a man burst into the room, his breath ragged. He belonged to the Alcaside race, his blue, shiny skin glistening under the dim light. His single eye darted nervously around the room as he called out in a panicked voice.

“Omfry! Jeriana is here!”

Omfry, who had been sitting quietly at the bar, turned his head sharply, his expression hardening.

Dreados rose slowly, setting his glass down with deliberate care. His towering form drew every eye in the room as he strode toward the center.

“Daiel,” he said, his voice calm but cold. “Open a portal to Anuel.”

Sumshus straightened in his chair. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”

Dreados’s tone didn’t waver. “I’m going to find out.”

Daiel sighed heavily, swinging his legs off the chair. “I don’t know where she is,” he muttered, sounding more annoyed than concerned.

Dreados’s gaze sharpened. “Then open a portal to Oustar.”

Daiel groaned in frustration. “Spencer!”

A moment later, a peculiar creature skittered into the room. Spencer, a member of the Fredeen race, stood at an awkward 7’5” with disproportionately short arms and legs, a fur-covered body, and a large head adorned with a thick black mustache. He hurried forward, clutching a small device in his stubby hands.

“What now?” Spencer asked, his tone laced with irritation.

“Oustar,” Daiel said, gesturing toward the central table.

Spencer raised one of his small hands, conjuring a glowing green holographic map of Oustar that floated above the table. The detailed, luminous projection shimmered in the dim light as everyone gathered around.

Daiel stared at the map for a moment before clapping his hands together. His veins bulged visibly as he concentrated, and the air began to crackle with energy. A swirling black void with glowing blue edges started to materialize in the center of the room.

“Hurry up,” Daiel grunted, his voice strained. “Opening a portal through kingdoms isn’t easy.”

Dreados stepped forward, his movements deliberate and unhurried. “Drop me over the town,” he ordered.

Daiel’s face twisted with exertion. “Just go! I can’t hold this for long!”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Without another word, Dreados stepped through the portal, vanishing into the swirling void. As the portal snapped shut behind him, Daiel collapsed into his chair, breathing heavily.

Sumshus leaned back, his expression grim. “Let’s hope he gets there in time.”

---

The elf woman’s sharp senses picked up the deafening crash that echoed across the battlefield. Her head snapped toward the submarine, her sharp eyes narrowing as the sound reverberated in the icy air. She raised her hand and muttered, “Search.” A shimmering field of mana spread out, probing the wreckage. Her face stiffened as she sensed the presence of someone new—a figure she couldn’t detect earlier. Alongside him were the faint life forces of Ziraiah, Lisa, and Anuel, their conditions dire. The acrid scent of burning flesh filled her nostril.

Without hesitation, she rushed toward the submarine, her boots crunching against the ice. When she arrived, her breath hitched. Half the submarine was obliterated, its walls twisted and shattered. Standing amidst the wreckage was a towering man, his terrifying presence overwhelming, his cold gaze locked on her male companion—the male Spellbound.

“Step away, or I will end you where you stand,” Dreados commanded, his voice calm yet filled with absolute authority.

The male Spellbound’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?” he demanded, his voice trembling between caution and arrogance.

The female Spellbound’s heart raced. This man… he wasn’t here before. I sense no mana from him, yet… this pressure. Raising her hand, frost danced along her fingertips. “Surround. Now.”

“I said, who are you?” the male Spellbound repeated, his voice growing impatient.

Dreados’s cold, calculating gaze shifted briefly to the elf woman before settling back on the elf man. His expression was devoid of emotion as he uttered, “You have five seconds to step away. Five.”

The female Spellbound acted instantly, unleashing a blast of ice that engulfed Dreados. The frozen prison shimmered, sealing him within. “I told you, we need them alive,” she snapped, her voice tense.

The male Spellbound turned toward the charred forms of Ziraiah, Lisa, and Anuel, his expression twisted with a mix of disgust and resolve. “They still are.”

“Keep your emotions in check,” the elf woman hissed. “Our priority is the queen and the princess.”

But before she could say more, cracks began forming in the ice surrounding Dreados. The air grew heavier as a low, ominous voice reverberated through the battlefield.

“I warned you.”

The ice shattered into countless shards, and in an instant, Dreados lunged toward the male Spellbound. The elf man’s instincts kicked in as he conjured several shields, layering them around himself while augmenting his body with magic. It was useless.

Dreados’s palm connected with the side of the elf man’s face with unimaginable force, shattering teeth and sending him hurtling through the submarine wall. His body tore through houses in the town beyond, leaving a massive crater in his wake.

The elf man lay motionless in the rubble, his breaths ragged, blood pouring from his broken nose and mouth. What… what just happened? His thoughts were sluggish as he struggled to comprehend. Was I hit? He spat blood onto his hand, noticing two of his teeth among the mess. The destruction around him filled his senses—the screams of the injured, the sight of bloodied civilians crushed under debris.

Fury ignited in his chest as he gritted his teeth. Healing magic coursed through his body, mending his dislocated jaw. “You will pay for this,” he growled. Flames erupted from his feet, propelling him into the sky.

---

Back at the wreckage, Anuel watched as Dreados gripped the elf woman by the throat. Her legs flailed helplessly as she clawed at his arm, trying to summon frost. Each attempt shattered instantly against his skin. Her mind raced. This man… how is he this strong? He doesn’t even have mana!

“You Spellbounds,” Dreados began, his voice like steel, “believe your magical prowess makes you strong. So arrogant.” He studied her face briefly, then added, “You can’t be more than fifty years old. Next time, choose your opponents wisely.”

With a flick of his wrist, Dreados stabbed her stomach with a single finger. She gasped in pain, her face pale.

Enraged, the elf woman clung to his arm. A sudden surge of cold energy radiated from her body as she soared into the air, dragging Dreados with her. They ascended higher and higher until the town below became a distant blur.

“Absolute Zero!” she screamed.

A violent burst of frost magic erupted from her, freezing everything it touched. A tempest of cold winds and thick fog engulfed the sky, shrouding the battlefield below in ice and shadows. She thought, No one can survive this…

A calm, chilling voice cut through the storm.

“I fought a man who wielded the Cold Seed,” Dreados said, his gaze piercing through the frost. “Compared to that experience… this is nothing.”

The elf woman’s eyes widened in horror. What? How is he still alive?

Dreados’s expression remained unchanging. “I commend you, little girl. However… I am not your equal.”

With terrifying force, he hurled her toward the ground. Her body crashed into the icy battlefield below, leaving a massive crater in her wake. She lay motionless, her body trembling from both fear and pain.

Dreados descended slowly, his cold eyes scanning the destruction. Without sparing the elf woman another glance, he approached Festron’s lifeless body. Kneeling, he gently took Festron’s hand, searching for any sign of life.

Anuel’s weak voice broke the silence. “I’m sorry, Dreados… that man… he killed Festron.”

Dreados’s eyes flicked toward Lisa’s burned body, then to Ziraiah, who clung desperately to Anuel. The charred remnants of their skin and their shallow, pained breaths told him everything he needed to know. His gaze darkened as he spoke a single name.

“Daiel.”

A swirling portal materialized beside him, crackling with otherworldly energy. He turned to Anuel. “Go.”

“My leg… it’s broken,” she whispered, her voice strained.

“Hold the girl,” Dreados ordered.

Anuel reached for Ziraiah, cradling her as best as she could. Above them, a bright light illuminated the battlefield. The male Spellbound hovered in the sky, bloodied but brimming with rage. A massive sphere of fire grew in his hands, its heat distorting the air.

Anuel’s voice trembled. “That’s him… he’s the one who killed Festron.”

Dreados didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the inferno above.

---

The elf man’s furious voice thundered across the battlefield. “Go to hell, you filthy Unbound!” He hurled the immense fireball downward, its heat clearing the fog as it descended.

Dreados stepped forward, his strides calm and deliberate. The ground cracked beneath his feet as he launched himself upward, shattering the ground behind him. He shot into the sky, heading straight into the heart of the inferno.

The elf man sneered, pouring more magic into the fireball. But then, through the flames, he saw a hand—Dreados’s hand—emerge unscathed.

“What…?” he whispered, his confidence wavering.

In an instant, Dreados appeared before him. A sharp crack rang out as the elf man’s head was severed from his body. As it spun weightlessly through the air, his dimming vision caught sight of Dreados above him, his figure framed against the vast sky, untouched by the inferno.

His mind reeled, struggling to comprehend what had just happened. His lips trembled, parting slightly as a final, fractured whisper escaped.

“Impossible…”

Dreados pushed off against the very air itself, his momentum propelling him toward the heart of the inferno. The sky trembled as he closed the distance in an instant, his body a blur of raw force. Then, with a single devastating kick, he struck the massive fireball.

A thunderous shockwave erupted as the inferno shattered into countless fragments, its searing embers scattering harmlessly across the battlefield. The once-blazing light was extinguished in mere moments, leaving only the towering figure of Dreados, unscathed, descending from the heavens.

Below, the elf woman watched, her body trembling. She had never witnessed such power before. As she stared at Dreados descending from the sky, only one thought filled her mind.

This man… is a monster.

---

To Be Continued...