Somewhere beyond the world, in a realm untouched by time, a meeting was underway. Councillors, minor kings, and the great king himself sat cloaked in a silence deeper than shadow.
The chamber stretched wide, swallowed by darkness, yet it pulsed faintly with an eerie red glow that seemed to seep from the very walls. The surface behind them shimmered with a blend of crimson and black, as if painted in dried blood and sorrow.
The Great King sat high upon his throne, unmoving. His presence was a silhouette carved from void, and the only thing clearly visible was the crown resting upon his head. A crown of heavy, twisted metal, forged into the shape of a sealed wave, painted in obsidian and gold. At its center gleamed a single, enormous crystal, pulsing faintly with restrained power.
To his right sat the four councillors, their bodies obscured by the half-light, only fragments of faces and fingers catching the glow. To his left, the three minor kings waited, some calm, others restless.
The First Councillor, seated at the far edge nearest the king's right hand, spoke first. His voice was thin and brittle, like paper cracking in the cold.
"What do we do now?"
A breathless pause followed, the silence heavy enough to make the faint hum of the crystal feel like thunder.
Then the Fourth Councillor, at the opposite end of the king's right side, leaned forward. His voice slithered across the table.
"Their meeting was no coincidence. It was Vanik'shur Teluvahr's doing. He ensured the rich boy would cross paths with the Ashenhive kid."
As he spoke, he rested one withered hand upon the long black table, dark nails sharp as daggers, fingers long and withered, stained a rotten purple hue.
The Second Minor King, seated in the middle to the Great King's left, stirred in his chair. His tone was measured but edged with concern.
"It's good that he's in the Exo-Hunter department, but how do we guarantee he'll never face the real threats of a dungeon?"
The chamber held still as his gaze swept the table. He continued, slower now:
"The more he walks toward the dungeons… the closer Vanik'shur comes to him, exposing his suppressed hatred for all living things. And the rich kid knows a lot, keeping him away from that one might be harder than we think. What say you, Your Majesty?"
The words lingered in the air.
But the one he called Majesty made no reply. The Great King remained as he was, silent and distant, as though not truly present. Only the crown shimmered in the dim light, its faint gleam carrying the weight of the room's unease.
The Second Councillor, seated beside the First Councillor, leaned forward, allowing half his face into the glow; pale skin, dark lips, and a sharply cut jawline.
"King Moo, are you forgetting that the rich kid is the successful reincarnation of the priestess? So their bond is necessary."
The Second Minor King, Moo, shook his head slowly.
"I haven't forgotten. It's true that when Vanik'shur was looking for a vessel, the priestess too… decided to look for one. But how sure are we that he is her reincarnation?"
He let the question hang, eyes scanning the council.
"You all saw what happened, didn't you? The resonance between them caused the Ashenhive kid to lose control over his emotions. If it wasn't for his spirit, who knows what would have happened."
Murmurs shifted around the table, but no one argued. The lack of proof hung over them like a damp shroud.
The Second Councillor spoke again, voice lower but laced with tension.
"The arrival of his vessel sixteen years ago shattered the veil between our worlds. We Malgeds had lived for decades in the Adafio woods, hidden from human eyes, and they from ours. But when he succeeded, it all fell apart. Now we can't even tell who's the enemy… us or them."
From the lower left, the Third Minor King spoke up, his voice calm but cracking under strain.
"We can no longer exist in this realm. It's collapsing, barely holding together. We have nowhere else to go. The human realm… is the only one left. The rest… Vanik'shur wiped them from existence."
The Fourth Councillor tapped a blackened nail against the table before replying,
"The bigger problem is, the more he grows stronger, the more capable a vessel for Vanik'shur he becomes."
The First Minor King, seated nearest the throne — King Namer — rose to his feet. A towering figure cloaked in shadow, a smoke-like aura rolled off him in slow, suffocating waves.
"We cannot allow another reign of Vanik'shur to rise. Killing the boy is impossible, so we must ensure that the seal on his back never breaks."
His words growled through the chamber. No one moved.
Then the Fourth Councillor began to tap his nails again, slow and deliberate. His voice was deep and almost amused.
"Calm yourself, King Namer. I have already put the first plan in motion. I've convinced the city to allow his return without granting him the title of hunter."
A grin stretched across his shadowed face, yellow eyes gleaming like coins in the dark. He leaned forward, lowering his voice.
"And that… is only the beginning."
The council chamber seemed to hold its breath.
Far away, beneath layers of worlds long forgotten, where unbearable flames coiled around ancient shackles, something stirred.
A monstrous hum rose from within the fire. For a heartbeat, there was a glimpse; huge horns curved backward like a crown, crimson skin streaked with jagged black stripes, and small eyes spread wide and close together. Then, the vision was swallowed by the flames once more.
—
Far from the crumbling council realm, where shadows and power wove unseen, the world below stirred alive with sound and restless light.
Elyen's car rolled up to an enormous, glimmering hotel. The moment he stepped out, he tripped on nothing and fell flat on the pavement.
His driver froze, horror flashing across his face. Any scratch on Elyen and he'd be paying with his job or worse. But Elyen was always like this. Clumsy.
"Oh… I fell," Elyen muttered from the ground, his voice so tired it sounded like he might just stay there forever.
Inside the hotel lobby, a man and two women waited eagerly. The instant Elyen walked through the doors, his aunties descended on him like a pair of overly dramatic queens.
"Oh my dear God, Elyen, finally you're back!" cried Vivienne, clutching his arm as though he'd been lost at sea. "Do you know how many sleepless nights I've had? It's been two years! Two years!"
Since he'd gone abroad, his return had been kept almost secret.
The man, his father Varek, cleared his throat loudly. "Ahem… excuse me, I'm here too, you know."
"Hey, Dad," Elyen mumbled, still sounding exhausted.
"Hey, son. How was your flight?"
Before he could answer, Vivienne flapped a hand dismissively. "Never mind the flight! You must be starving. Come, come, sit down before you fall on your face anytime soon."
"Your mother isn't coming today, either," Charlotte said with a huff as they seated him.
"She's always been like that, fixated on her work," Vivienne added with a dramatic roll of her eyes.
Elyen said nothing.
The hotel glittered with polished marble, crystal chandeliers, and the quiet murmurs of the city's elite. But Elyen didn't even look around. Fancy places never impressed him.
Then Charlotte gasped so loudly that half the lobby turned to look. "What is this? A scratch? On your cheek? Elyen! What happened?"
"I fell," he repeated flatly.
Charlotte's sharp gaze snapped to the driver. He tensed like a man facing a firing squad.
"Well, you see, Miss Charlotte, I—"
"Don't you dare say a word Marcus!" she cut him off, one hand on her hip the other restless in the air. "You had one job. One! Get him here safely, and you bring him bleeding? What do you do as his driver?" She grabbed a napkin and started dabbing Elyen's face with surgical precision.
The driver thought miserably, My job is driving, not babysitting…
Varek cleared his throat again, louder this time. "Would you two quit it? He's a grown man. Stop treating him like a glass ornament."
"Of course we have to pamper him!" Vivienne shot back, flipping her hair. "After all, he's the only boy in the Blackthorn family. Do you expect us to just let him bleed?"
But the scratch wasn't even that visible.
Charlotte leaned forward, lowering her voice but not her intensity. "I heard you're enrolling at Wilson Castalis… but why? We're rich! You could stay home and live like a king. What if something happens to you?"
Elyen stayed quiet, his expression unreadable.
Vivienne clasped her hands dramatically. "And of all departments, why Hunters? You're so smart, Elyen! You'd dominate the Exorcist Department without lifting a sword. A genius like you doesn't need muscles, just that big brain of yours."
They're forgetting the Exorcist Department involves combat too, just trickier, Elyen thought.
Varek sat with his eyes closed, pretending not to hear them. Finally, he muttered, "Maybe he wants to follow in my footsteps, since I am a hunter."
"Oh shut up, Varek. We're talking to Elyen," Charlotte snapped.
"Great. Now I'm invisible," Varek muttered. Why do I even bother? I have never won against Charlotte. Varek thought.
Elyen finally cut through their bickering. "Can I just get some food?" His voice stretched like he had zero energy left. "I'm kinda hungry."
"Yeah, sure!" they both said at once, signaling the waiter with the urgency of generals calling for reinforcements.
Varek leaned closer, lowering his voice. "But seriously, Elyen. What's the real deal? You returned from abroad out of the blue and submitted your enrollment before you even booked a flight."
"Knowing you hate any kind of hustle, I can't wrap my head around it. Is this something personal?"
Elyen hesitated. He wasn't even sure of the answer himself.
"It's just a hunch, Dad," he said.
His vague reply left everyone blinking in confusion.
---
Outside, the city stirred with its own rhythm. Advertisements flickered across hovering screens, casting shifting colors on the wet pavement. Above, the hum of drones layered over distant sirens and the murmur of a world that never truly slept.
Beneath it all, I regained consciousness in the alley.
The ground felt cold and uneven, littered with broken glass and yesterday's smoke. My breath came in short bursts. Every bone in my body ached like I'd been dragged through a storm I didn't remember.
I blinked around, my head buzzing with static. Van jolted forward, wrapping me in a grip so tight I almost choked.
"Master… are you feeling better?".
"Van, you're holding too tight."
He sprang back, his stiff expression clearly saying, that huge doesn't mean I care.
"I doubt you have enough shirts left in there," he muttered with a glance at my burned clothes.
"It's getting harder to endure the pain," I whispered, mostly to myself.
I dug into my backpack, pulled out a clean shirt, and slipped it on. "I'll buy more soon."
The alley was growing colder by the minute. I stood and pulled out my phone to check the time only to find the screen dead and cracked.
"It broke when you slammed down earlier," Van muttered, crossing his arms like a sulking cat.
We left the alley, walking away from the city's bright hum into dimmer, sleepier streets. This part of Elaria never changed. Or maybe no one cared to change it.
"Van, let's go surprise Grandma Elunara"
We'd barely taken a few steps before Van started whining.
"Can't we just not walk?" he groaned.
I wasn't about to let him merge with me again, so he ended up trailing behind, dragging his feet like he was going to collapse on purpose.