In the eastern reaches of Thallerion, the sun rose like a mighty king slowly reclaiming the cold shadows of night. A glowing white ethereal sphere blazed high above, wrapping the entire realm in its light—this was what they called the Crown-Shield. From afar, it looked like a colossal crown cast down from the heavens by the gods themselves.
As daylight spilled over the land, every spire of Thallerion glinted like swords raised aloft in a solemn, towering salute.
In the great plaza, within the halls of Betelgeuse City, the people had gathered to await their ruler. Minutes passed, until they spotted the king's golden Auriga cutting through the sky.
Cheers and roars of support erupted as King Zerceux Herzthroven arrived—ninety-six years old, riding his winged chariot drawn by four golden stallions. Even at his age, his skin bore few lines, as if time itself moved slowly for him; yet the unyielding resolve of his reign shone in his hair, the color of polished silver-ash.
"To rise above this world, one must anchor themselves to the Celestial Gene. Without it, Thallerion is nothing but prey in the eyes of monsters. But times have changed. Fear has settled over us all—that tomorrow… even our Celestial Guardian may be gone."
Trumpets blared in triumph as he stepped down to the center of the dais, feeling the weight of his people's love and devotion.
He arched his brow, smiled, and waved to the crowd; then he touched his arm, twisting the golden bracelet upon his wrist. In an instant, the Auriga dissolved like stardust scattered by the wind.
He adjusted the collar of his black coat, and tightened the knot of his necktie—striped in pale gray and deep black.
The king sighed as his gaze fell upon a desperate man, straining to summon his power. He clenched his arm, he strained with every fiber of his being—yet all that manifested was pale blue stardust, flickering and fading in his trembling grasp.
"Thallerion was abandoned by its Celestial Guardian long ago. Orion was meant to stand with us through every war, yet he turned his back. And now, foreign powers have locked our nation away behind a false peace."
Blue-tinged energy projected live broadcasts across every wall of Thallerion's buildings. King Zerceux stepped forward, looking out over the sea of faces gazing up at him. He drew a deep, heavy breath, his broad chest rising; he lifted his arm, and his weary fingers pointed toward the heavens like a blade drawn.
"LOOK UP!" His voice rang out, steady and unshakable, echoing until the very air seemed to hold its breath. "Behold that gleaming barrier they have strung across the sky—like a white shroud draped over a coffin." Veins rose upon his brow, his aura burning hot as forged iron. "This is the National Threat Security Shield, sent by the Cepheus Sovereign under the Crown-System!" A murmur of dread rippled through the crowd as they marked the Sovereign's crest emblazoned upon the glowing shield—the king's own sigil, turned against them.
"A hundred years have passed since they placed it there. Grand, is it not? But I call it what it truly is—A PRISON FOR HUNTERS! Some call it safety. Others call it freedom. But with every breath we take, they steal what is ours."
The people's anger rose in unison with his own. "They have bound our nation! This is no protection—it is oppression!" The clang of celestial-forged weapons rang out, and the crackle of low-tier arms sent tremors through the air.
"You speak the truth! Nothing but talk of 'peace'. Talk of 'edicts'. Talk of 'mandates'. And worst of all—they gave us this Sovereign Shield… we pay the price, yet they hold the key to our cage!" He slammed his fist upon the podium, wispy smoke curling from his arm, his blue eyes blazing as he looked out upon his people.
"When Orion abandoned Thallerion, this land was sealed off for years on end. They saw us as weak—too weak to stand on our own, too weak to survive without their 'protection'?" He struck the podium again, spiderwebs of cracks spreading across the stone, his voice a roar of defiance. "HA! We are no flock of sheep to be herded by strangers! Have they forgotten? We were born to wield arms!"
"WE ARE HUNTERS! WE NEED NO ONE TO FIGHT FOR US!" The cry went up as one, a wave of awakening sweeping through the crowd, every voice raised in allegiance to their king.
"I STAND WITH YOU! The forests, the mountains, the seas beyond our borders—they are part of us. That is where we belong. Not trapped behind the shields of false saviors!" His face flushed with emotion, his silver-ash hair stirring in the wind. The people looked up, their eyes bright as newly kindled stars; energy swirled in their hands, taking shape as sharp, gleaming blades. "Instead, they have caged us like birds—never once letting us fight for ourselves!"
The Mandate
Midway through his address, the ethereal screens across the plaza flickered and glitched, as if the very system itself had been corrupted. A harsh red projection blazed to life before him, sharp and menacing as a gun barrel pressed to his face.
"What is this!?"
Streamlined System Interface
[ SYSTEM NOTICE: CEPHEUS SOVEREIGN HIGH-PRIORITY BOUNTY ]
Phenomenon: Biopunk Infestation
Source: Unauthorized Laboratories
■ INTEL REPORT
The Crown-System has detected an exponential surge in illegal biopunk facilities along the frontier. These dark sectors are mass-producing illicit genetic catalysts.
■ MISSION PARAMETERS
- Objective: Destroy all 10 illegal laboratories consecutively
- Time Quota: 2 Months (60 Standard Days)
- Target Species: Unknown / Rapidly Mutating Mutagens
- Estimated Forces: ~10,000 Biopunk Entities per sector (Continuous release)
- Lethality: UNQUANTIFIABLE (Extreme Threat)
- Location: Eastern Thallerion Border (Marshy Terrain)
■ BOUNTY POOL
- Reward: 25,000,000 $CEPX ~ 25,000,000,000 Astral-Coins (AC)
- Creditor: Cepheus Sovereign Ledger Account
[ SYSTEM QUEST: DO YOU ACCEPT THIS TASK, KING ZERCEUX OF THALLERION? ]
[ YES ] [ NO ]
---
"Hm… The Cepheus Sovereign?" His jaw tightened, then twisted into sharp suspicion. "Illegal laboratories?" He murmured the words as he read them, his eyes widening. "Twenty-five billion—billion? That is an unimaginable sum!"
"Ms. Ruvensent, confirm this… 'mission' for me." The sharp click of heels echoed as his secretary stepped forward, dressed in a vivid violet coat that fell to her thighs.
"At once, Your Majesty. I will contact the Sovereign's office immediately." She stood poised and dignified—but behind her, an elderly man stepped toward the king, leaning heavily upon his staff.
"Does the Sovereign believe themselves… gods to be worshipped?" His voice was rough and rasping, each tap of his staff a deliberate challenge. At his side stood a female attendant, her smile cold and sharp. "Under this forced lockdown, Thallerion was made to sell its celestial weapons just to survive. And when hunting grounds across the world were closed off, the value of $ORN collapsed—our nation was brought to ruin."
"Good morning, Head Minister." The secretary bowed respectfully.
"Gaverdric." King Zerceux turned to face him, his jaw hardening as he saw the jagged scar cutting between the minister's brows and forehead. The older man's crown was mostly bald, with hair like frost lining his temples; Zerceux also noted the guards standing watch at a distance. "I will handle this matter. Do not interfere."
Gaverdric stared back, cold and unyielding, as if he had not heard him at all. "I know what you are thinking." His voice rose like water from a poisoned well. "Do not force this upon Thallerion. The Hunters' honor is long dead. We have found stability—our Will-Forgers have brought us prosperity. There is no need for anyone to venture out, to bleed and die for nothing."
Zerceux's gaze darkened, shadows falling across his face, his hands clenching into fists. Gaverdric stepped to the edge of the dais, looking down at the crowd as if they were mere insects. Every strike of his staff against the stone felt like a mockery. "If you bow to the Sovereign's will, you might as well admit it—our Hunters have become nothing but mercenaries. A hollow legacy, fading away with every passing day."
"This is no bribe!" The king's voice cracked like thunder. "It is a chance for Thallerion to be recognized once more as what we are! They have given us a chance to fight for ourselves, to stand tall!" The secretary moved between them, caught in the middle of their rising fury. "This is who we were! This is who we were meant to be!"
"Your Majesty… per their official statement—they will open the Crown-Shield, if you accept this mission."
Gaverdric turned on her instantly. "Open it? They will lift the barrier's restrictions—not remove it entirely. Do you not see? This shield is starving us. Every day our people labor, yet we still cannot pay the five hundred million astral-currency they demand every single year." The king said nothing, but his temples throbbed with every word.
Gaverdric twisted the ring upon his finger, his gaze never leaving Zerceux. "I might understand your choice… if you truly believed this was for the good of the realm. But there is another way—a way you have long refused to take."
"Are you testing me?"
"No. I am simply stating the truth…" He stepped closer, until they stood face to face. "If you truly care for Thallerion, and for this fortune… why do you refuse the Tournament? Enter it, and the shield will be removed. No other nation will dare touch us. The Hunters have no reputation left to lose—what more have we to hide?"
They stared at one another, like two cannons with fuses burning short. "The Tournament? The League of Kings?" Zerceux's jaw tightened until it ached. In one swift motion, he seized Gaverdric by the collar. "HA! Do you truly believe a king's life is nothing but a game? Remember this—I would rather fight beside my Hunters, free and unyielding, than dance for the amusement of the world!"
He shoved Gaverdric back hard. The king's face burned with rage; the minister gripped his staff until his knuckles whitened, biting back a snarl. But the secretary stepped between them before violence could break out.
"Your Majesty, Honorable Minister—this is not the time for quarrels! The Cepheus Sovereign awaits your answer." She placed a hand upon Zerceux's shoulder. "Please—this argument serves no one." Gaverdric only lifted his chin in cold disdain.
"All here have seen I have done nothing wrong. If anyone should be censured… it is the King of Thallerion."
Zerceux drew a long, steadying breath, his anger cooling into cold resolve. "Gaverdric—if you wish to avoid further shame… do not cross me again. Have you forgotten what you did at Bellatrix?" His gaze fixed upon the minister's scar, a reminder of a shared nightmare neither had spoken of in years. "Do not worry. The choice will not be mine alone—or yours."
"And whose will it be, then?"
"Tch. That is none of your concern."
He picked up the microphone, his voice carrying across the entire plaza, blazing with renewed purpose. "Awaken, warriors, hunters, healers! This is the moment we have waited for—the key to our freedom lies within our grasp!"
"A hundred thousand years have passed since our Celestial Guardian vanished. We have lived in fear, we have lived in shadow. The Sovereign's shield kept us safe… but it has also become our chains. Now, they have given us a mission. These biopunk facilities, these twisted experiments—they are the source of the monsters that plague our lands." A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"But Thallerion was born to hunt beasts! To fight fiends! To destroy the corruption that poisons our world! The fate of all this rests in your hands!" The people roared in answer, so loud the very sky seemed to shake.
"So I ask you now—will we accept this charge? Will we fight for our freedom… or hide behind these walls for the rest of our days?" The plaza erupted into chatter and debate.
"Thallerion is the home of hunters!" A warrior stepped forward, clenching a fist that sparked with energy. "We stand with our king! We will march! We will fight!"
"And what of us?" A group called out, clutching simple low-tier blades. "We have not awakened to power. We are ordinary people—but we too wish to serve!" Gaverdric's brow furrowed, and he swallowed hard. Zerceux looked upon them with compassion.
He had heard the minister's quiet scorn. "The weak have no place beyond these walls. Send them to the Will-Smith forges—they are nothing but a burden."
Zerceux let out a bitter breath. "Then go to Rigil District," he called out. "Register as Auxiliary Hunters. Do not rush into battle recklessly—but prove to me… prove to all of them… that they are wrong."
"Thank you! We will not fail you!" They cheered, and the king watched as some practiced striking with their first blades, his heart swelling with quiet pride.
"No hunter of Thallerion would turn away this call," he thought to himself. "Not when our people hunger, not when our people suffer. But I know this will not be easy… I only pray the young and the untested do not become a liability." He wiped sweat from his brow and beard, then looked back at Gaverdric, still standing stiff and angry upon the dais. "Well, Minister? There is nothing more you can do. This is the will of the people."
"Tch! Do not come crying when they all die!" Gaverdric snorted, turning away with a scoff. "Foolish, blind fools! Come—we are leaving."
Zerceux gave a small, determined smile, and pressed the YES button. The roar of the crowd shook the foundations of the city.
The recruits and civilians began to make their way toward Rigil District to register. But as they moved, he spotted one figure standing apart—a young woman, wearing a simple cross pendant at her breast.
"A Cyprioxian? Why does she walk among Hunters?" He blinked, and she was gone, lost in the sea of people moving past. "I have never seen her before… is she new to Thallerion?"