Hours had passed since the battle. Within the grand halls of Ignir's Royal Castle, a tense gathering had formed. The towering, resplendent throne of King Gozay loomed over the assembled nobles and the remaining Spellbounds—their numbers inscribed upon their chests.
The First and Eighth Spellbounds were absent.
At the center of attention stood Maloi, her head wrapped in fresh bandages, her stance composed yet strained. Before her, seated upon his throne, King Gozay exhaled slowly, his fingers pressed against his temple. His golden hair, though slightly disheveled, still radiated regality, and his piercing blue eyes shimmered with contemplation.
A heavy silence filled the hall before the king spoke. His voice, rich with authority, resonated through the chamber.
"So… we have lost the Eighth Spellbound." His words were deliberate, each syllable laced with weight. His gaze did not waver as he lowered his hand, now resting upon the armrest of his throne. "Tell me, Maloi—how did such an event transpire?"
The assembled nobles exchanged uneasy glances, the atmosphere thick with tension.
Maloi took a measured step forward, her head slightly bowed. "We were moments away from apprehending the Unbound when a single man appeared. His strength was unlike anything I have ever witnessed… He subdued me with ease and slew Grin."
A flicker of something unreadable crossed the king's gaze. He leaned forward slightly. "A single warrior opposed the both of you…? He must have suffered grave injuries in the exchange."
Maloi hesitated before shaking her head. "My lord… we were no match for him. It was not even a battle."
A long silence stretched across the hall.
Then, King Gozay's voice sharpened.
"Are you implying that you lost miserably?"
Maloi did not immediately respond, but the weight of his words pressed upon her shoulders. Her head bowed further, lips tightening.
"Answer me, Maloi."
Her voice wavered as she finally spoke. "...Yes, my lord."
A low murmur spread among the gathered nobility. Their whispers slithered through the chamber, filling it with disbelief and intrigue.
King Gozay's gaze narrowed. "Tell me—what tier of magic did he wield?"
Maloi inhaled deeply before answering. "He had no magic, my lord."
The hall erupted into murmurs once more, but this time, it was tinged with outrage.
A nobleman, his expression twisted with incredulity, scoffed. "What? How can a mere man defeat a Spellbound without magic? Such a thing is preposterous!"
Another elf, his features sharp with scorn, sneered. "A boldfaced lie! This lowborn girl dares to deceive His Majesty?"
The nobles' chatter grew louder, suspicion mounting.
But then—
"SILENCE."
The king's voice cracked through the chaos like a thunderclap, its sheer force shattering the rising commotion. The nobility froze, their lips clamping shut as an eerie stillness fell over the hall.
His gaze, glacial and unwavering, returned to Maloi. "If he wielded no magic… then what weapon did he employ?"
Maloi swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. "He bore no weapon, my lord. He fought with his hands."
A long pause stretched between them.
Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, King Gozay rose from his throne.
The sheer magnitude of his 13-foot frame cast an imposing shadow over the chamber. His height was abnormal for an elf. His regal robes billowed slightly as he descended the steps of his dais, his measured steps echoing across the stone floor.
"Correct me if I am mistaken," he murmured, each step drawing him closer to Maloi, "but from what I understand—this warrior wielded no magic… bore no weapon… and yet, he bested both my Eighth and Ninth Spellbounds?"
The room was silent, save for the sound of his boots against marble.
Maloi, now mere inches from the king's piercing gaze, felt her breath hitch. His eyes, cold and unreadable, bore into her, searching for any trace of falsehood.
"Am I correct?"
Her lips trembled as she forced herself to nod. "Y-yes… yes, my lord."
A heartbeat of silence.
Then—
"I see."
Without another word, he turned away, his towering figure retreating back toward his throne. Each step, though slow, carried the weight of absolute authority.
The moment he sat, he intertwined his fingers, exhaling deeply before addressing the room once more.
"Magic is but one path to power." His voice was calm, but it carried the finality of a divine decree. "In truth, it pales in comparison to what lies beyond."
The nobility listened intently, their previous doubts now overshadowed by curiosity.
"We mages channel Vitalis into Mana, and from Mana, we weave our spells. This is the foundation upon which our strength has stood for thousands of years."
He let his gaze drift across the gathered Spellbounds.
"However…"
His voice lowered slightly, the weight of his next words thick with reverence.
"There exist those who channel Vitalis in a manner far removed from our understanding. Those individuals do not wield Mana—instead, they draw forth something far greater. Something ancient. Something...monstrous."
His blue eyes gleamed.
"They wield Bravo."
A hushed silence swept through the chamber, tension crackling like a storm about to break.
Then, from the ranks of the Spellbounds, a lone figure stepped forward.
The woman bore the number five inscribed upon her chest. Her hair was cut short in a sharp, practical style—her presence exuding an air of unwavering discipline.
She knelt before the king, her gaze steady. "My lord… if I may inquire, what exactly is Bravo?"
King Gozay did not immediately respond. Instead, he leaned back against his throne, his gaze distant.
"I do not know."
A ripple of shock passed through the hall.
"That," he continued, his voice heavier now, "is how exceedingly rare it is."
The nobles exchanged uneasy glances. The Spellbounds stood rigid, listening intently.
"For over three centuries, I have tasked my finest scholars with unraveling its mysteries. Yet, even after all these years, Bravo remains a force beyond comprehension."
His fingers tapped against the throne's armrest as he recalled a voice from mere days ago.
Renia.
"The Elvhein children encountered a Bravo user. Our devices detected remnant traces of an energy unlike Mana. so It can only be Bravo."
The king's eyes narrowed slightly. And to think… those children had been witness to such an anomaly.
He exhaled, his mind sharpening.
The rules of power had shifted.
And the world of magic had just encountered its greatest unknown.
A heavy silence lingered in the grand hall, the weight of King Gozay's words pressing upon the nobles and Spellbounds alike. The revelation of Bravo, a force beyond magic, had shaken the very foundation of their understanding.
Yet, amidst the suffocating tension, Maloi hesitated, her posture stiffening. She clenched her fists, inhaling sharply before speaking once more.
"There is one more thing, my lord."
King Gozay, who had been lost in thought, shifted his gaze toward her with an unreadable expression. His voice carried a calm, unwavering authority.
"Go ahead."
Maloi swallowed, her heartbeat thundering in her chest. She took a single step forward, her voice steady but strained.
"The man I spoke of… the one who overpowered us…"
A pause.
"He is an Elf."
The entire hall erupted.
A cacophony of gasps, murmurs, and disbelieving whispers flooded the chamber, nobles recoiling as if they had just been struck by a physical blow.
"Impossible!" one noble barked.
"An Elf wielding this mysterious power we don't even know of? Ridiculous!" another scoffed.
Even the Spellbounds, seasoned warriors and mages of the highest caliber, exchanged bewildered glances.
For thousands of years, Elves had been known for their unparalleled affinity with Mana. Their lineage was steeped in magic, their connection to Vitalis refined through generations. But Bravo… Bravo was something beyond their domain, a power untamed, raw, and foreign to their very existence.
For an Elf to wield such a force—it defied logic.
From his throne, King Gozay remained silent, his piercing blue eyes locked onto Maloi.
An Elf that wields bravo?… he thought, his mind racing.
This was no trivial matter. This was a revelation that could change everything.
The murmurs continued to rise, the nobles spiraling into disbelief, their voices growing louder, more frantic.
Yet, even as the hall drowned in chaos—the king did not speak.
He simply sat there. Thinking. Calculating.
An Elf that uses Bravo…
For the first time in over five hundred years, something unforeseen had shaken his kingdom.
And he did not like it.
---
To Be Continued…