The Ovoris Kingdom, one of the six kingdoms, was governed by the Royal family of Ovoris. The current king and monarch, King Damsel De Ovoris, faced a dilemma that threatened to divide his court and his people. He had two sons by two different wives, each a formidable candidate for the throne.
The first, Prince Bastein De Ovoris, was born to his first wife, Tamina. The second, Prince Andrie De Ovoris, to his wife Veruna. Both were highly regarded by the nobility and the public alike—excellent knights, commendable leaders, political savvy, and cleverness.
The entire kingdom watched, waiting to see who would be the next heir. King Damsel was in a genuine dilemma.
Tradition dictated that Bastein, as the firstborn, was the rightful heir. However, Prince Andrie had recently earned immense prestige. He led a monster subjugation campaign in the northern territories and, through brilliant strategy, annihilated the threat without a single casualty. This great feat earned him a powerful reputation, making him a viable contender in the eyes of many. Unable to choose, King Damsel declared that the succession would be decided by merit and support. The prince who gained the most trust from both the nobles and the common civilians would be named the Crown Prince.
The contest began. Prince Bastein, a disciple of the kingdom's Great Magic Engineer, Gaspard Enniwigaan, focused on innovation. He developed agricultural machinery that drastically reduced the farmers' work time and increased productivity, earning him the adoration of the common folk.
Prince Andrie, on the other hand, courted the merchants and the nobility. He forged lucrative trade agreements with the neighboring Atheliya and Cronos Empires, causing the Ovoris Kingdom's economy to swell. But beneath the veneer of prosperity, these deals were a front for a darker enterprise: human trafficking, selling and buying slaves from the empires.
While the Atheliya and Cronos Empires had successfully exposed and dismantled the merchant groups involved in slavery, the ledgers Aeon had obtained in those empires contained no names from the Ovoris Kingdom. Aeon had no direct evidence of their involvement. But with the two primary merchant groups eliminated, only the Second Prince remained as the head of the operation.
At the Dream Brothel, located in Count Pampille's land, Aeon had discovered that some elves had been sold and was there to free them. The building had become a slaughterhouse. Before him, the lady of the brothel, a woman named Daroli, trembled in fear.
"You... who are you?" she stammered. "Why are you doing this? I have a legal permit to run this brothel! You can't just barge in and kill my men!"
"A legal permit for this establishment, perhaps," Aeon's voice was cold steel. "But an illegal one for forced prostitution, slavery, and the drug trade you run from its depths."
Daroli's face went white. "What are you saying? All the women here are doing this of their own accord. No one is forced into prostitution!"
"I'm not talking about these women," Aeon said, his eyes piercing into hers. "I'm talking about the ones locked in your secret chambers and the women you send to noble houses."
Daroli was shocked that he knew about her hidden operations. "How... how do you know about this?" she stammered.
"I also know that Count Pampille is the one behind all of this," Aeon said.
Daroli was terrified; this was a secret known only to her and the Count. "Then you know you won't get away with this! The Count will kill you!"
"Haha. I have already taken care of the Count," Aeon said with a humorless laugh. "Now, only you and those nobles in the capital remain."
The last of her defiance shattered. Daroli collapsed, grabbing Aeon's leg. "Please, don't kill me! I was just greedy for money, I'm sorry! Please, spare my life. I'll release all of them, I swear! I'll do whatever you want!" She begged, rubbing her nose against his boots.
Aeon grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her head back. "So you'll do whatever I say, won't you?"
"Yes, yes! Please!"
"Good."
Deeper within the brothel, Daroli opened a hidden passage to a secret chamber. Inside, twenty women were imprisoned, two of them elves.
"Are these the only elves you have?" Aeon asked.
"Yes," Daroli whimpered. "The nobles took the others last month."
Aeon broke the locks on the cells. "Do not be afraid. You are all free. Go home." He then turned to the elves. "You two, please come with me."
The freed women hesitated, their eyes darting to Daroli. Seeing their fear, Aeon grabbed Daroli by the neck and forced her to her knees. "She won't harm you," he said, his voice a low growl. "She won't follow you. Her power over you is gone. Isn't that right?" he squeezed, choking her.
"Yes... yes!" Daroli gasped. "You are all free! Please, go!"
The hesitation on the women's faces vanished, replaced by dawning hope. After they had fled, Aeon leaned close to Daroli. "Just do what I told you." He then left the brothel without another word.
Daroli fell to the floor, rubbing her bruised neck. "Ahhh... that bastard. Who in the hell was he? And this mark he gave me... I have no choice but to obey."
Outside, Aeon sent the elven women back toward the safety of the forest. He then set off on the snowy path toward the capital of the Ovoris Kingdom, Castrovella.
I have only ten days left before December 31st, he thought. Thanks to Ash and Anna, the networks in the empires are gone. But I never imagined the Second Prince himself was the linchpin. There is no hard evidence of his involvement; he's clever enough to deny everything, claiming he was unaware of his nobles' illicit dealings. He has left no trail. There is only one person who can help me expose him: Prince Bastein.
The Next Day, December 22, 1624
The Royal Palace, Castrovella
In the royal court, the great nobles of the Ovoris Kingdom were assembled.
"Your Majesty, as you commanded, the nobility is assembled," announced Count Yuviriz Ezzigrux, a staunch supporter of Prince Andrie.
King Damsel de Ovoris sat upon the throne, his red hair and eyes like smoldering embers. He was a man of immense physical presence and one of the kingdom's six Grandmasters. His sharp eyes scanned the hall. "I can see that, Count Yuviriz. However, I do not see Count Pampille. Does anyone know why he has ignored a royal summons?"
Count Kaizen Rubifiera, a key supporter of Prince Bastein, stepped forward. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, but we have been unable to make contact with anyone from House Pampille. The weather has been bizarre these last nine days, disrupting communication across the territories. If you allow it, my King, I will dispatch my knights to investigate the situation."
"He is not one to defy a royal command," the King mused. "If he does not arrive by tomorrow, send the knights." He then addressed the entire court. "I am sure you have all guessed the reason for this summons, despite the harsh weather. It has been five years since I declared the terms of my succession. Now, the time has come for you to voice your decisions."
Count Kaizen spoke first. "Your Majesty, I, along with Count Halcarisia, Count Escalora, and all our vassals, believe that the first prince, Bastein, should be the next King of the Ovoris Kingdom."
Count Yuviriz countered immediately. "Your Majesty, I and three other counts, along with our vassals, give our full support to the second prince, Andrie. We believe he should be the next king. As you know, he played a major role in strengthening our kingdom's economy by securing trade deals with the empires—deals which benefited everyone."
"It is true the prince's trade deals helped us economically," Kaizen retorted, his tone sharp. "But the commoners saw little of that wealth. The profits primarily enriched nobles like Mister Yuviriz and his allies, who dealt directly with the merchant groups. And we cannot ignore what happened recently. Both of those merchant groups in Atheliya and Cronos were dismantled for their illegal activities. Are we to believe this is a coincidence?"
"Are you suggesting we were involved in their crimes?" Yuviriz snapped. "You slander us, Sir Kaizen! Did you hear our names mentioned? The Second Prince and his allies had nothing to do with that sordid business. We were unaware of their methods!"
As the two began to argue, a third man stepped forward, commanding immediate silence. He was Marquis Decuiline Bascetniz, a high noble, a fellow Grandmaster, and the protector of the southern borders. His family had sworn loyalty only to the throne itself and remained neutral in the succession.
"Your Majesty, if I may," Decuiline said, his voice calm and steady.
"Of course, Marquis. You have my permission," the King replied.
"Your Majesty, I believe this decision must ultimately be your own. Both princes have proven themselves in their own ways. Though the Second Prince was perhaps unaware of his trade partners' illicit businesses, his intent was to do what was best for the kingdom. Therefore, Your Majesty, I urge you to look into your own heart and choose the rightful heir to the throne." Decuiline explained.
King Damsel considered his words. "Very well," he declared. "I will announce my decision tomorrow. For now, you are all dismissed."
The nobles bowed and departed, leaving the fate of the Ovoris Kingdom hanging in the balance.
On the other side of the palace, in the royal study room, which was accessible only to the royal family, Bastein sat engrossed in a book. Like his father, he had red hair and fiery red eyes, but his expression was gentle, his demeanor calm and composed.
He closed the book and let out a yawn. "It's already afternoon. I've been here for three hours and didn't even realize it," he said to himself. "This book is really eye-opening for me. Whenever I read it, it gives me a new sense of responsibility. Now I understand why Father likes to read about our ancestors' history. 'A proud Ovoris always stands with the truth, even if his family goes against him. He always protects the truth.' These lines... they made me realize that our ancestors were the true protectors of this land and the weak. They even executed their own children who did wrong." He rose and placed the book back on the shelf.
"I think you liked the records of history very much, Bastein."
Bastein's head snapped around, his body instantly on guard. "Who's here? Show yourself!" he demanded, his voice sharp.
"You don't need to let your guard up, Bastein. I'm not here to harm you," Aeon's voice replied, a disembodied echo in the room.
"How can I believe that when you won't even show yourself?" Bastein retorted, his eyes scanning for the source of the voice.
Then, Aeon stepped out of the shadows, wearing his black coat and mask, his hair disguised as black and his eyes as a dark violet.
A book came flying at Aeon, which he easily dodged. Then Bastein threw a powerful punch.
BAM!
Aeon caught his fist mid-air. "Look, this is exactly why I didn't want to show myself," he said, his voice calm.
"You're in the royal palace, which is guarded by hundreds of royal knights. And more importantly, you're in this royal study, which is protected by so many arrays and mechanisms, and two high-level Gladiators. You're not someone to be taken lightly," Bastein said, his gaze hard. "And you caught my punch, even though I attacked your blind spot. Now, tell me why I should believe you're not here to harm me."
"I'll say only one thing: if I had any intention of killing you, I would have done it while you were admiring your ancestors," Aeon said.
Bastein considered Aeon's words. It was true; he could have been killed easily. The fact that Aeon had deliberately shown himself was proof of his intentions, or lack thereof.
"What you said makes sense, but don't think I believe you," Bastein said, his guard still up.
"What happened to the guards outside? Did you knock them out?"
"Nope. I just enclosed this entire study with my power so that no one can hear anything outside," Aeon said.
"You did what?!" Bastein exclaimed, a look of profound shock on his face.
"Well, it's my technique," Aeon said. "We don't have time to talk about it. You must have heard the news from the Atheliya and Cronos Empires, right?"
"Yes," Bastein said, his expression turning serious. "The big merchant groups in both empires were involved in illicit dealings and human trafficking."
"The same thing is happening in the Ovoris Kingdom," Aeon said, handing Bastein the ledgers he had obtained from Count Pampille's house. "The nobles who were in contact with both merchant groups in Ovoris are also selling and buying slaves. Here is the proof."
Bastein's eyes widened as he read the ledgers. His calm and composed demeanor vanished, replaced by a fierce fury. He clenched the ledgers so tightly that the paper crinkled.
"I can't believe these bastards," Bastein seethed. "They're worse than beasts and monsters, selling their own kind for a few pieces of gold!"
"Now do you believe me?" Aeon asked.
"How did you get these? And what happened to Count Pampille?" Bastein asked, his voice a low growl.
"Oh, I sent him to his doom," Aeon replied casually.
"Oh... okay," Bastein said, his mind still reeling. "I need to report this to Father." He turned to leave.
"Stop," Aeon commanded.
"What do you mean? Can't you see the gravity of the situation?" Bastein snapped, turning back. "All the nobles are in the capital right now! This is the best chance we have to capture them!"
"You're overlooking something, Bastein," Aeon said.
"What?" Bastein asked, his voice filled with frustration.
"Did you not notice, or are you playing dumb? All the nobles named in these ledgers are your brother's supporters," Aeon revealed.
"Do you think they have the guts to commit a crime this big without a higher authority's support? The one who is supporting them from behind is your brother, Andrie. He made all those illegal dealings behind your father's back. He sold his people for the throne."
Bastein froze, his expression tense. "You do know that what you're saying is a charge of treason. And these ledgers don't have his name in them."
"We both know how cunning he is," Aeon said. "Do you seriously think he would leave his name and traces behind?"
Bastein closed the distance between them. "You know this, and you're still telling me? How will you prove that he's a part of these illegal dealings?"
"I have a plan," Aeon said calmly. "You just need to follow me."
"What plan?" Bastein asked, his mind racing.
"As you said, all the noble families are in the capital right now, and Count Pampille's death isn't known to anyone," Aeon explained.
"We'll use that to our advantage. We have to finish this by tomorrow."
Bastein nodded, listening intently as Aeon began to outline his plan.
– – –
At The Ezzigrux Villa, Castrovella
Within the opulent villa of Count Yuviriz Ezzigrux, the heads of several noble houses gathered in secret. The mood was grim.
"This is a disaster," said Count Guillermo Galvaria. "With the Spero and Flosia merchant groups dismantled in the empires, our entire operation has collapsed. All our payments have been frozen. The money we invested is lost."
"Indeed," added Count Felipe Novarion. "How both groups were exposed by the imperial families at once is baffling. It should have been impossible."
"There is nothing we can do about that now," Yuviriz said, his voice a low growl. "What matters is that our names were not directly implicated. My intelligence suggests that more than half of the mercenaries and bandits we employed have been killed. The rest are hiding here, in Ovoris. As for the merchandise... the slaves they captured are currently imprisoned on my estate. What are your numbers?"
"I have around five hundred," Felipe replied.
"I've sent half to a viscount in the countryside for safekeeping, the others remain on my lands."
"I have a thousand, all of them ready for sale," Guillermo said grimly. "What are we to do with them?"
"I received a message from Count Pampille just before I left for the capital," Yuviriz announced. "He wants us to send all the slaves to his estate. He claims he can sell them all."
Felipe looked skeptical. "Are you sure? He didn't even attend the King's summons this morning."
"Exactly," Guillermo added. "Can we trust him? Sending that many slaves in this bizarre weather when we can't even contact him seems reckless."
"Do not worry," Yuviriz assured them. "His message explained he would be late because he was making preparations. We need to move today. He will handle the logistics, and tomorrow, the King will announce his decision. Order your people to send the slaves to Pampille."
"But the mercenaries who handled transport are gone," Guillermo pointed out. "We'll have to use our own men."
"We don't need those idiots," Yuviriz scoffed. "I am sending my own son with a contingent of my knights. Who would dare question my caravan in my own territory? We just need to disguise the cargo as goods. Nothing more."
"Very well," Guillermo agreed. "I will do the same."
"As will I," Felipe said.
The three counts produced communication orbs, their surfaces glowing as they issued orders to their families and vassals, setting in motion a massive, clandestine transfer of human life.
– – –
At Night, The Border of Teridil City
A long line of heavy caravans stood silent in the swirling snow, each guarded by knights bearing the crests of their respective houses. Leading the Ezzigrux contingent was the count's son, Olderic Ezzigrux.
"Why has no one come for us?" Olderic complained, stamping his feet against the cold. "The other caravans are here. Are we supposed to just wait?"
"Sir, with your permission, I can scout ahead," one of his knights offered.
"What's the situation, Olderic?" another young noble asked, approaching on horseback. It was Claude, son of Count Guillermo Galvaria.
"Claude! It's been too long," Olderic greeted him.
"That it has. So, your father sent you to deliver the 'goods' as well?" Claude asked with a smirk.
"Goods? Are you playing dumb, or do you actually not know?"
"They bring us money, so they are goods, are they not?" Claude's smirk widened.
"Now you're talking," Olderic laughed. "Are you alone?"
"No, my knights are with the caravan. Marcel is here too, though he's hiding in his carriage to escape the snow." Claude said.
"Count Felipe sent his son, too? I suppose with this many slaves, our fathers wanted the matter handled personally." Olderic surprised.
"It seems so," Claude said, his gaze sweeping the empty road ahead. "But where is our reception committee?"
As if on cue, a lone figure emerged from the blizzard, walking steadily toward them. The heavy snowfall obscured his features until he was nearly upon them. It was Aeon,in his disguise.
"Are you sent by Count Pampille?" Olderic asked. "Did he send you alone? Where are your people?"
"Did you bring every single slave you had?" Aeon asked, ignoring the questions. He activated his Detection skill and sensed over 3,000 people in the carts.
"Is that all?" Aeon said..
"Yes, we've gathered all the slaves meant to be sold to the Atheliya and Cronos Empires," Olderic replied, growing impatient. "But you haven't answered me. Where is Count Pampille?"
"He's in his grave, and you can join him there too," Aeon said, his dark violet eyes radiating a beast-like fury.
Olderic instantly understood the man before him was dangerous. "He's an enemy! Attack him!" he screamed..
The knights charged, and one lunged with his sword aimed at Aeon's eye.
STAB!
But Aeon caught the sword with his bare hand. The knight tried to pull back, but the sword wouldn't budge. Aeon bent the sword with his hand, then punched the knight's chest.
THUMP!
He tore out the knight's heart, and the knight fell dead. Olderic and Claude were frozen in terror, watching him tear apart a high-level Gladiator with his bare hands. They realized Aeon was no easy target.
"What are you waiting for?! Attack at once!" Olderic screamed.
"Kill that man!" Claude yelled.
The knights circled Aeon, blocking every direction. "Leave one direction open for your survival," Aeon said, a cold warning in his voice.
He pulled out his daggers, and the bloodbath began. He moved with impossible speed, clashing his daggers against a knight's sword.
Claaashhhhhhh.
The knight's hand trembled from the sheer force. Aeon jumped onto his shoulder, stabbed him in the neck, and cut off his head.
STAB!
He jumped to another knight's shoulder and cut off his head.
CUT!
He repeated the same deadly action again and again.
CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! CUT!
The ground was littered with severed heads and pools of blood. The remaining knights, along with Olderic and Claude, were consumed by fear..
"Who is he?! Why is he killing us?!" Olderic cried.
"How would I know that?!" Claude shouted.
"Hey, Marcel's knights! Why aren't you attacking him?!"
But they were frozen, their courage imprinted with the image of the beast before them, massacring everyone in his path. They were chickens waiting for the slaughter.
Amidst the commotion, Marcel Novarion emerged from his carriage, annoyed."What is all this chaos? I can't even sleep with all this—"
THUD.
A severed head flew through the air and hit Marcel square in the chest, knocking him to the ground. He shoved it off, his eyes widening in shock as he recognized the face. Scrambling backward toward his carriage, he shrieked.
"What's going on here? You useless knights, do something!"
A shadow fell over him. Aeon was perched atop the carriage, watching him with a predator's smile. "You aren't going anywhere, my little friend."
"Who are you?! Do you know who I am? My father is a Count! You won't get away with this! I dare you to lay a hand on me—"
A flash of steel, and both of Marcel's arms fell to the snow.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" he screamed, a sound of pure agony.
"What were you saying about laying hands on you?" Aeon asked calmly.
"Please," Marcel sobbed, tears and snot freezing on his face. "Please... spare my life."
"Now you're talking," Aeon said, grabbing his collar. "Don't worry. I won't kill you just yet. I have more work for you three."
He then turned his attention back to the few remaining knights, and the massacre resumed.
From a distant ridge, Prince Bastein and Marquis Decuiline Bascetniz watched the horrifying scene unfold.
"Sir Decuiline... what is your assessment of this man?" Bastein asked, his voice laced with disbelief.
"This is not a battle; it is a slaughter," the Marquis replied, his eyes narrowed. "Those knights are sword experts and gladiators, not mere foot soldiers. To kill hundreds of them alone... it's unheard of. He must be at the level of a Swordmaster, at least. But I've never known of a Swordmaster so young in this kingdom. That boy... he is dangerous."
"Do you truly believe that, my lord?" asked Marcello, the vice-captain of Decuiline's knightly order.
"Marcello, could you fight all those knights alone?" Decuiline asked without looking away.
Marcello clenched his fist. "I could fight them, but..."
"But you would not emerge unscathed," Decuiline finished for him. "And yet, that boy hasn't shed a single drop of his own blood. Not a scratch on him. He is a true monster. Watch him, Marcello. All of you, watch and learn. Even I am learning from him."
His knights, stunned by their master's words, turned their full attention to the battle, observing Aeon's every lethal movement.
A short while later, it was over. Aeon had killed every last knight and now stood over the bound and gagged forms of Olderic, Claude, and Marcel.
"So, it's done," Bastein said, approaching with Decuiline. "You handled them all without our interference."
"This is just the beginning; the night is young," Aeon replied. "The people who have gone missing these past few months are in those carts. Send them to the capital with your knights. You and the Marquis will stick to the plan. We have much to do before dawn."
"At first, I had my doubts," Decuiline admitted, "but having seen your capabilities with my own eyes, I will gladly lend you my aid, young man."
"I'm glad, but we have no time for pleasantries. I will take the elves and move on to the next location."
Bastein and Decuiline nodded, opening a teleportation gate to begin the rescue. Aeon gathered the elven slaves from the caravans and vanished into the darkness.
– – –
Later, sending back the elves. Aeon appeared at the Dream Brothel, returning to see Daroli. He appeared silently behind her in her room. "Did you do what I told you to do?" he asked..
Daroli gasped and spun around. "Can't you knock before coming into a lady's room? Do you have no shame?" she said, trying to sound defiant.
Aeon looked at her, and the cursed mark he had left on her hand glowed with a black light.
AAAAAHHHHH.
Daroli crumpled to the floor, convulsing.
Agony, pure and absolute, seized her body.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she shrieked. "You can come and go as you please! Just make it stop!"
Aeon released the curse. "So," he asked again. "Did you do what I told you?"
"Yes! Yes," she gasped, still trembling. "I contacted the other brothel owners. I told them Count Pampille and the others were planning a massive slave auction and required all available elves—men, women, and children. They are to gather them and prepare a teleportation array. They believed me because they'd already heard that Count Ezzigrux was gathering slaves for Pampille. You can go to his territory now. You'll find every elf they had at the Grand Pleasure Brothel."
"They believed you that easily? Are they all that stupid?" Aeon asked.
"The major brothels all have connections to the counts," she explained, trying to regain her composure. "We buy slaves from them. I just used their names. How did you know the other counts were gathering their slaves?"
Aeon grabbed her hair, pulling her close. "A slave like you doesn't need to know anything. Just do as you're told. Otherwise, you know what will happen."
"Ouch! Yes, yes, Master. I will do as you say," she whimpered.
He let her go and melted back into the shadows.
Daroli was left alone on the floor, shaking. "That monster... he ruined my life, gave me this cursed mark, killed the Count... and now he's going to destroy them all."
And so, Aeon's night hunt began.