The battlefield still reeked of blood. The cries of the dying had faded into silence. Alen stood atop the royal palace steps, the bodies of the king and queen lying behind him—symbols of retribution fulfilled. The banner of the Crimson Lion fluttered in the blood-soaked wind, unchallenged, undeterred.
Just as the world started to settle, space cracked.
Like a mirror shattered in slow motion, reality split open in the skies above the capital. From the rift emerged a majestic figure, clad in golden celestial armor, hovering mid-air with wings of glowing runes. His presence warped gravity and bent the light itself—a being from the Middle Realm.
Middle Realm Envoy (firm voice):
"Who dares to disturb the balance of power in the lower realms? Who dares paint an entire kingdom in blood?"
More golden-armored warriors followed behind him—judges, executioners, and observers. They looked down upon Alen as if staring at a wild animal.
The lead envoy descended and landed in front of Alen, his boots cracking the stone beneath them.
Middle Realm Envoy:
"Did you do this? Did you slaughter twenty million souls? For what? Petty vengeance? Are you so blind, you frog in a well? There are hundreds—no, thousands—stronger than you in the Middle Realm. Do you think yourself above the gods?"
Alen didn't blink.
Blood still stained his hands. His breathing was steady. His expression was calm—but the fire in his eyes spoke louder than any scream.
Alen (quietly at first):
"I may be a frog in a well. But if that well is where my family, my clan, and the woman I love can live in peace… I'll stay in it."
He raised his voice, now echoing with quiet fury.
Alen:
"I don't care if you're gods. I don't care if millions are stronger than me. What I care about—what I live for—is making sure no one touches those I love. I was told once…"
He looked to the sky, recalling Formless's words.
Alen:
"Be selfish. Be ruthless. Even if you must slaughter millions… never regret protecting your own."
The golden envoy's aura pulsed in anger.
Middle Realm Envoy (threateningly):
"Then you leave us no choice. We will strike you down here and now—"
A deafening roar shook the heavens.
From another rift, a new figure stepped through—old, powerful, unstoppable. His crimson cloak billowed as his eyes burned like molten lava. It was Alen's grandfather, the previous War King of the Crimson Lion Clan, a legend even in the Middle Realm.
Alen's Grandfather (coldly):
"Careful, boy. You're about to break The Law of the Cub."
The golden envoy staggered back. The other Middle Realm warriors froze.
Alen's Grandfather:
"Do you really want to risk war with us? Do you even know what happens when a Lion cub is touched?"
He stepped closer, his presence darkening the skies.
Alen's Grandfather:
"Go back. Ask your High Council about The Pact of Bloodfire. Ask them what the Crimson Lion Clan did the last time someone dared harm a cub. Ask them who burned the Middle Sky City to ash with a single roar."
The envoy gulped. Even the clouds above trembled.
Alen's Grandfather (roaring):
"Tell them Gravon Redmaw has spoken. And if they touch my grandson again—this realm will be their tomb."
The golden-armored warriors vanished into a swirling portal without another word.
The crowd watching from the magical screens across all six continents, four oceans, and two seas, could only gasp. The Law of the Cub had been invoked. The Crimson Lion Clan had just shaken the foundation of the multiverse.
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Dramatic World-Building Insight: The Law of the Cub
"No one shall touch the cub of the Crimson Lion.
Any being who harms, threatens, or conspires against a direct heir of the Lion shall be hunted, erased, and their bloodline extinguished from existence.
This law binds not only realms… but even the heavens."
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