The central courtyard of the slaughtered city's palace looked like a massive heart that had lost its beat… yet somehow remained standing after death.
The dried blood covering the ground had cracked like a dead shell, and even the air felt heavy with something that did not belong to any human world.
With Korval's first step into the courtyard…
everything stopped.
No wind, no movement, no sound.
The city was a living entity watching them.
Behind him, the soldiers—men used to seeing blood and massacres—did not dare to breathe aloud.
He was standing there.
In the middle of the courtyard…
like an ancient stone made before humans existed.
A human body… but with nothing human in it.
No shame, no fear, no caution, no welcome.
Eyes dull like cold embers.
A face without emotion, without any sign of reaction, as if the skin was only a cover for something that could not be named.
Ashen stood motionless…
and yet, everyone who looked at him felt he could move at any moment and kill a hundred men before blinking.
He looked like indifference walking…
but inside him was the mouth of a volcano waiting to be touched.
Behind Ashen, the monster was collapsing… then rebuilding… then collapsing again.
Limbs formed and then dissolved.
Open gaps revealed flesh dripping with trapped souls.
Small faces—tens, hundreds—appeared on its skin, screamed, then were crushed back into the flesh.
It was a mass of chaos…
a mass of pain…
a cluster of souls screaming without sound.
Every second, a different noise came from it:
a laugh… a cry… a growl… the scratching of claws from within.
And yet it stood, as if something was pulling it toward Ashen and preventing it from falling apart completely.
When Korval entered the courtyard and saw them both…
he froze.
Not from fear.
But from evaluation.
He looked at Ashen…
and in a single second—faster than a blink—he understood the truth:
This was not a follower.
Not a soldier.
Not the usual type of dangerous talent.
This… was a threat.
Or…
an opportunity.
And nothing existed between the two.
These were the rules.
This was the world.
This was the law of the jungle:
The strong survive… and the one who understands power before it strikes controls the outcome.
Korval stepped forward, two slow steps.
The air was thick, as if the city itself was trying to push him back, but he continued.
At twenty meters…
their eyes met.
Ashen did not change his expression.
No hatred, no anger, no welcome—
just the look of a being who did not care about what he saw… but would kill if something bothered him.
A cold line ran down Korval's spine.
Yet he smiled—
a small smile, like a decision-maker facing a forgotten beast.
He spoke calmly, like a king used to speaking at the edge of death:
"You destroyed an entire city…
I want to know:
Are you my enemies?
Or my allies?"
Ashen answered.
He did not speak.
He did not blink.
He did not even breathe.
He raised his shoulder—just a very small movement—
but it was clearer than a thousand words.
He didn't care.
He didn't see the world the way humans did.
The monster's laugh
The monster behind him trembled…
its body bent…
and a distorted laugh came out, a sound that made hearts tighten inside chests.
A greasy voice mixed with the breaths of dozens of broken throats:
"We… belong… to no side…"
The air around the army tore.
Some soldiers lost balance, as if the words themselves carried the weight of a pitiless soul.
Korval stared at them…
then at the courtyard…
then at the dried corpses fused into organic layers on the walls.
And he understood immediately:
This moment…
this confrontation…
this silence joining a king, a human beast, and a scene of blood…
would change the kingdom's history—
and possibly the entire continent.
And for the first time in years…
Korval felt not fear…
but something else:
Greed.