The adventurers stared at Leon in paralyzed silence, bracing themselves for a demand that might cost them their souls.
"I want you all to tell the King we defeated the Dragon King together," Leon said, his face lighting up with a gentle, disarming smile. "Tell him it wasn't fully awakened yet. I want you to take the glory this time. Could you do that for me?"
A collective sigh of relief swept through the cavern. They had expected a dire price, perhaps a blood oath or a life of servitude, but to be offered fame and the King's favor instead was a mercy they couldn't refuse. Everyone nodded in frantic agreement.
Soon, the long journey back to the Silver Kingdom began.
While the S-Ranks were trekking back, King Athares of the Silver Kingdom had grown restless. Fearing that his S-Rank legion would be slaughtered—especially since none of them possessed a Primordial Skill—he had sent an urgent plea for help to the Emerald Kingdom.
The Emerald Kingdom responded with a show of overwhelming force. They dispatched three Primordial Skill users to provide support. Though none had reached the Legendary Rank yet, they were the absolute pinnacle of their respective classes:
Claire von Vinci,The highest-ranked S-Rank in the kingdom and a master of matter manipulation.
Ron Buress, A high A-Rank with a fearsome reputation.
Prince Lloyd, The infamous and powerful A-Rank royal.
The trio arrived at the Silver City in record time. However, just as King Athares began to brief them on the mission, a guard burst into the throne room, breathless and shouting. The S-Ranks had already returned.
Embarrassed, the King apologized to the Emerald reinforcements for the wasted journey. He offered them a luxurious apartment within the palace, insisting they stay as honored guests until they were ready to return home.
The fifty-three S-Ranks assembled in the palace square as the citizens sang hymns of their bravery. The King watched in amazement as the "Dragon's Parade" officially ended; reports confirmed that the thousands of black dragons had dispersed from the mountain, signaling that the threat had vanished.
True to their word, the S-Ranks lied. They told the King that the Dragon King had been caught in a premature state and that it had taken the synchronized, desperate efforts of all fifty-three of them to barely scrape a victory.
King Athares was so impressed by their supposed coordination that he doubled their reward. Every S-Rank was handed a purse containing a thousand gold coins.
The news of this "impossible" victory even reached the ears of the kingdom's most powerful figures: the Legendary Ranks. At the head of this elite circle sat Phyx Rainstorm, the Reality Manipulator. As the most powerful and feared individual in the Silver Kingdom, Phyx kept a close eye on his subordinates—one of whom was Captain Azreal.
Phyx sat in his private chambers, narrowing his eyes at the reports. Something didn't feel right. He knew Azreal's limits, and he knew the weight of a Black Dragon King. The math of the victory simply didn't add up.
"Tell me, Azreal, what happened exactly?"
Phyx sat upon his throne, his gaze piercing as Azreal bowed deeply before him. The Reality Manipulator could sense the visible panic vibrating in his subordinate's voice and the slight tremor in his composure. He knew someone—or something—was behind this story, and it was clear that Azreal was terrified to speak the truth.
"Azreal, tell me," Phyx began, his voice dropping to a freezing temperature. "Whoever compelled you to hide this from me... is he more powerful than I am?"
"I... I can't say, Boss," Azreal muttered, his voice shaking. "But he warned me not to tell anyone what truly happened in the dragon's cave."
Phyx was not a leader who ruled through mindless oppression; he was a man of cold, calculated curiosity. He was fascinated that Azreal would choose to defy a direct request from him out of fear of another.
"Tell me," Phyx asked, leaning forward. "Does he have a name? And did he explicitly forbid you from revealing that as well?"
"He didn't, Boss," Azreal replied, sweating under the pressure.
"Then tell me. What is his name?"
"I don't know his real name," Azreal whispered. "But he calls himself 'The White One.'"
"The White One," Phyx muttered to himself. A slow, wide smile spread across his face. A power capable of subduing a Black Dragon King—even a supposedly "pre-awakened" one—was a one-in-a-million anomaly. "I'd like to see him myself. I want to know exactly what kind of power he possesses."
Meanwhile, Claire sat in her luxurious palace apartment, a lingering unease tugging at her senses. Seeking air, she walked out onto the balcony to survey the capital. She stared at the beautiful horizon, the Silver Kingdom shimmering brilliantly under the reflection of the moonlight.
As she scanned the grounds below, she caught sight of a figure stepping out of the palace gates. He was heading toward the quiet, dark woods nearby.
"Hmm... that guy looks familiar," Claire thought, her eyes narrowing. "Where do I know him from?"
She watched him reach the edge of the forest, the moonlight catching the flow of his white cloak. In an instant, the memory snapped into place—the posture, the aura, the effortless movement. This was the same person who had humiliated her and vanished into thin air.
Rage, hot and sudden, surged through her. Without a second thought, she launched herself off the balcony, a silver streak of matter-manipulating force cutting through the night air.
"You won't escape me this time!" she vowed, her eyes locked on the white figure disappearing into the trees.
As Leon stepped into the velvet shadows of the woods, the air behind him didn't just move—it fractured. He felt a sudden, violent distortion in the environment, a localized ripple of compressed matter that signaled a high-level intervention. With a fluid, almost liquid grace, he stepped smoothly out of the way, his body shifting mere millimeters as Claire launched toward him like a silver spear. Her strike, intended to pin him to the earth, missed by the thinnest of margins, the sheer friction of her passage singeing the air where he had stood milliseconds before.
She skidded across the forest floor, her boots carving deep furrows into the loam, and landed a few feet in front of him. She spun with predatory speed, her face a mask of incandescent rage, her eyes burning with a recognition that had haunted her dreams.
"It's you!" she screamed, her voice trembling with the weight of her fury. "You were the one who humiliated me and got away!"
Leon stood perfectly still, his silhouette framed against the ancient trees. He looked at his sister, realizing with a start that he hadn't accounted for her presence in the Silver City. Had he known the "Emerald Prodigy" was within the palace walls, he would have exercised far greater caution to avoid her path. But destiny, it seemed, was impatient; it had woven their threads back together far sooner than he had intended.
He could see the tremors in her hands, the raw, unbridled emotion of a warrior who had finally found the ghost that had bested her. She wasn't going to let him slip into the ether this time—not without a reckoning. Despite the gravity of the situation, Leon wasn't ready for a family reunion, especially not one fueled by this much animosity.
A small, ironic smile touched his lips, hidden largely beneath the deep shadow of his white hood. His composure remained unnervingly relaxed, his mana signature a flat, unreadable calm that stood in stark contrast to her storm.
"Hi there," he muttered, his voice a low, resonant hum that seemed to vibrate through the very trees. "Long time no see."