The War Room of Velmora was not a room. It was a cathedral of strategy carved from black volcanic glass. The ceiling arched seventy meters high, disappearing into shadow. The floor was a single massive map of the world—24 kingdoms rendered in precious metals, glowing with enchanted light.
Twelve thrones circled a central dais. Twelve Kings. Twelve absolute rulers who had never shared space without bloodshed.
Until tonight.
King Luthar Thero of Emberfall sat with his wine goblet, his fat fingers drumming against the obsidian armrest. His eyes kept drifting to Sasha Wamen, who stood behind his throne like a crimson blade waiting to fall.
"So," Luthar's voice slithered through the silence. "We are all here. Twelve Kings. One... problem."
King Cedric Blackwood—now retired, now merely father to the true power—shifted uncomfortably. "My son will arrive shortly. The... ceremony took more out of him than expected."
"Than expected?" King Harlon of Ashen Reach laughed, a mechanical sound from his cybernetic jaw. "He crushed a crown with his bare hand and declared war on peace itself. What exactly did you expect?"
"Silence."
The word came from the shadows.
Roric Alfred stepped through the eastern archway. He had changed. The coronation suit was gone, replaced by functional black armor—light, mobile, deadly. His blonde hair was tied back. His black eyes scanned the room like a predator counting exits.
He didn't walk to his throne. He walked to the center of the map, standing on the representation of his own kingdom.
"Stand up," Roric said softly.
The twelve Kings looked at each other.
"I said," Roric's voice dropped to a whisper that somehow filled the entire chamber, "stand. Up."
King Luthar was the first to rise. Then Harlon. Then the others, one by one, until only two figures remained seated.
Sasha Wamen.
And an empty throne—King Valerius of Solara, recently deceased, his kingdom in chaos.
Roric looked at Sasha. She looked back. Neither moved.
"You don't kneel," Roric observed. "You don't stand. You simply... exist."
"I exist," Sasha replied, her voice like grinding stone, "where I choose to exist."
Roric smiled. It was not a kind expression.
"Good. Then choose to exist at this table. We have work to do."
He raised his hand. The map beneath his feet flared to life. The 24 kingdoms dimmed, and two points blazed crimson.
"Two sightings," Roric announced. "Two confirmed encounters with the Creature."
King Valen of Veridia leaned forward, his forest-green robes rustling. "Only two? But the threat—"
"The battlefield was the first," Roric interrupted. He walked across the map, each step lighting new coordinates. "Five and a half billion unconscious. Sasha and myself included. We never saw him coming. We never saw him leave. We simply... fell."
He looked at Sasha. She didn't flinch.
"The second," Roric continued, "was in the Elven Kingdom. Solara, specifically. A masked human fighting alongside Special Grade Knights. Executed King Valerius in his own 'Garden.' Left the crown prince alive. Vanished before reinforcements arrived."
Murmurs rippled through the Kings.
"Valerius was A-Rank," King Thorne of Gold-Peak muttered. "Not strong, but protected. How did one creature—"
"Not one creature," Roric interrupted. "The same creature. The white-haired demon with purple eyes."
He gestured. The map shifted, zooming into Solara's palace. A magical projection appeared—a rough sketch based on survivor testimony. White hair. Black and white mask. A sword that devoured light.
"Between these two points," Roric said, his voice dropping, "we see growth. Evolution. On the battlefield, he was passive. A force of nature. In Solara, he was deliberate. Tactical. He chose to save some, kill others. He demonstrated abilities no single discipline teaches."
The side chamber opened. Figures emerged—ranked warriors from across the alliance.
First: SSS-Rank Candidates
Valerica Talos and Akylas Vane walked in together, trying to appear confident. Valerica's light-claw fingers twitched. Akylas's scar seemed to pulse with green energy. They took positions behind Sasha, their supposed teacher, but their eyes kept drifting to Roric in terrified fascination.
"Students," Sasha said without looking back. "Observe. Don't speak."
"Yes, Mam," they chorused.
King Harlon adjusted his monocle, studying the two young warriors. "Sasha Wamen takes students? I thought she killed anyone who asked."
Sasha didn't turn. "I do kill anyone who asks poorly."
Flashback—Six Months Prior
The training grounds of Emberfall. Blood soaked the sand. Three bodies lay cooling—A-Rank warriors who had challenged Sasha for the title of "Strongest."
Sasha wiped her blade, bored.
"Next."
A young woman stepped forward. Blonde hair with black streaks. Eyes that didn't waver.
"I don't want your title," Valerica said.
Sasha's blade paused. "Then you want death?"
"I want to understand why you're strong," Valerica said. "Not how. Why."
She extended her hands. Light claws flickered into existence—immature, uncontrolled.
"Every teacher I've had tried to fix my technique. Fix my form. You... you don't fix anything. You just win. I want to know what that feels like."
Sasha studied her. "You would die for that knowledge?"
"I would die trying to earn it."
Sasha smiled. It was terrifying. "Accepted."
Three Months Later
Akylas Vane had watched from the shadows. He was a failed experiment from the Shadow Guild—toxic magic in his blood, scarred face, rejected by his own order.
He approached Sasha after she slaughtered a B-Rank dungeon boss in three seconds.
"I have nothing to offer," Akylas said. "No money. No family. My own guild wants me dead."
Sasha didn't look at him. "Then why stand before me?"
"Because you're the only person they fear more than they fear me."
Sasha turned. She saw the green energy leaking from his scar. Unstable. Poisonous. Beautiful.
"Your magic kills you," she observed.
"Yes."
"Good. That means you have nothing to lose."
She walked past him. "Keep up, or die trying."
End Flashback
Then: SS-Rank Warriors
Four figures from Velmora's elite guard. They wore heavy armor, each carrying weapons that hummed with enchantment. They knelt before Roric, not out of ceremony, but because his aura made standing difficult.
"My Lord," their captain gasped. "We are ready."
"You're ready to die," Roric said flatly. "That's not the same thing."
Finally: S-Rank Specialists
A dozen of them. Assassins from the Shadow Guild (replacements for the deceased Viper). Battle mages from Ashen Reach. Beast-tamers from the Mystic Isles. They filled the remaining space, a wall of elite power that suddenly felt... insufficient.
Then: SS-Rank Elite
A man stepped forward. Lean, red-haired, with eyes like burning coals. He wore robes of crimson and gold, and his very presence made the temperature rise.
"Your Majesties," he bowed, his voice smooth and confident. "I am Farlos Shelmer. SS-Rank, Fire Mage, multi-element specialist. I request permission to speak."
Roric nodded once. "Speak."
Farlos straightened, his 178cm frame radiating controlled power. "With respect, this creature—this creature—has demonstrated abilities beyond conventional ranking. Fire, lightning, healing. No single mage masters such diversity. If we are to hunt him, we need hunters who can counter multiple elements. I volunteer to lead the—"
"Sit down."
The voice didn't shout. It didn't need to.
Sasha Wamen had stood up.
The room went silent. Absolutely, completely silent. Even Roric froze, his black eyes widening slightly.
Sasha's red hair flowed like liquid fire. Her aura didn't flare—it simply existed, a pressure so absolute that the SS-Rank warriors gasped for air. The S-Rank specialists fell to their knees without understanding why.
Farlos's confident expression shattered. He sat down. Hard.
"We don't know what type of creature this is," Sasha said. Her voice filled the chamber, each word falling like a stone into still water. "But I'm sure of one thing."
She walked to the center of the map, standing beside Roric. The two SSS+ auras didn't clash—they merged, red and black, creating something that made the Kings tremble.
"He has a human heart. A human body. Until this day, I haven't seen a single person who could do what he did. But after seeing him..."
Sasha's eyes distant. Remembering.
Flashback—The Battlefield
She had been charging, sword raised, screaming orders to her 3 billion knights. Then pressure. Unimaginable, crushing pressure. She had fallen, her face in the mud, bleeding from her mouth, unable to move.
And through blurred vision, she had seen him.
White hair. Purple eyes.
He wasn't smiling. He wasn't triumphant. He looked... lost. Afraid. Like a child who had broken something precious and didn't know how to fix it.
"I'm kind of shocked," Sasha admitted, her voice softer now. "But I know one thing for certain. Only we can't defeat him."
Silence.
Then—laughter.
Roric threw his head back and laughed. It was a cruel, beautiful sound.
"So you think I'm not strong enough?" Roric asked, his smile dangerous. "You think I need help? Sasha, I don't need anybody. I am the Tyrant of Absolute Might. I crushed a crown with my hand. I made twelve Kings kneel. And you think—"
"Then why are you doing an alliance with us?"
The question cut through his words like a blade.
Roric's laughter died. He stared at Sasha, his black eyes narrowing.
"What did you say?"
Sasha turned to face him fully. Her red eyes met his black ones.
"You heard me. If you're so strong, why ally? Why gather twelve Kings? Why stand in this room instead of hunting him alone?"
Roric's aura flared. Black gravity pressed against the walls, cracking the volcanic glass. "You dare—"
"I dare," Sasha interrupted. "Because I know you. Because I knew the boy who used to catch fish in rivers. The boy who cried when he scraped his knee. The boy who—"
"STOP." Roric's voice shook the room. His fists trembled. "Don't. Don't you dare speak of—"
"Then admit it," Sasha pressed, stepping closer. Her red aura pushed against his black, neither yielding. "Admit that you need help. That we need help. That this creature—this human with a god's power—is beyond either of us alone."
The Kings watched, breathless. Two monsters, circling each other, moments from violence.
Then Roric laughed again. Softer. Broken.
"Fine," he whispered. "Fine. We need help. Is that what you want to hear?"
King Luthar cleared his throat, desperate to reclaim authority. "So... so you are trying to say we should... ask him for help?"
Sasha turned. Her red eyes fixed on Luthar like a predator spotting prey.
The King of Emberfall went pale.
"Yes," Sasha said.
She walked toward him. Each step echoed. Each step made Luthar shrink smaller in his throne.
"Who?" King Harlon asked, his mechanical voice wavering. "Who could possibly—"
"Maren Walberd."
The name fell like a death sentence.
King Cedric Blackwood stood up so fast his throne tipped over. "No. No, you can't be serious."
"The strongest man alive on this planet," Sasha continued, her voice gaining power with each word. "The only one who can defeat him. The only one who could wipe out all humans and all races from this Earth... and chooses not to."
"Retired," King Thorne whispered. "He's retired. He won't—"
"He's retired," Sasha agreed. "So currently, I am the strongest. But I know my limits. And I know his power."
She turned, sweeping her gaze across the room.
"Does anyone here doubt what Maren Walberd could do?"
No one answered. No one could.
Then—another voice.
"Your pardon, Mam Sasha. For interrupting."
A man stood. 180cm, golden hair, aura flaring with light so pure it hurt to look at. He wore armor of white and silver, the crest of the Holy Order gleaming on his chest.
"I am Kizar Garmon. SSS-Rank, Light Element. I must speak."
Sasha looked at him. "Speak."
Kizar straightened, meeting her eyes with difficulty. "If we are going to invite Maren Walberd... he will not accept. We all know this. He gets bored by such things. Sir Maren is a person who doesn't give look to politics, to wars, to—"
"Stop talking."
Kizar froze.
Sasha's eyes had ignited. Not metaphorically—actual flames danced in her pupils, her SSS+ aura compressing the air until Kizar's armor groaned.
"I said," Sasha whispered, "stop. Talking."
Kizar sat down. Fast.
"Sir Maren is retired," Sasha said, her voice controlled but terrifying. "So currently, I am the strongest. You can sit. And I don't want anyone to interfere when I speak of finding that creature."
The hall fell silent. Absolute, complete silence.
Sasha walked away from Kizar, her boots clicking against the glass map. She stopped before the projection of Solara, studying the rough sketch of Markil's face.
"I have seen his face," she said softly. "We have posters in all kingdoms. But no one is checking. No one is looking. They're too afraid."
"Tell me," Roric said, his voice careful now. "What do you think our knights are doing? Sitting on their hands? We have searched. We have hunted. But he moves like smoke, appears like thunder, and vanishes like—"
"Then we search harder," Sasha interrupted. She turned to face them all. "We investigate everything. Everyone. Even those not in this alliance."
Kizar raised his hand slightly. "Mam... if I may..."
Sasha's eyes flicked to him. He flinched, but continued.
"The Elves. Elrond Leon. The strongest warrior of the Elven Kingdom. He traveled with him. If we could just bring him in for questioning—"
"Tell me," Sasha said, walking toward him. "What element do you wield, Kizar?"
"Light, Mam. Pure light."
"And what do you think the other Elves would do," Sasha asked, stopping before him, "if we took their strongest and most trustworthy person? For 'investigation'? Or even if we said we just wanted to talk?"
Kizar swallowed. "They would... they would resist. Protest. Perhaps declare war."
"Perhaps?" Sasha leaned down. "You are a Light user. Your magic reveals truth. So tell me the truth. What would they do?"
"They would go to war," Kizar whispered. "They would die protecting him."
Sasha straightened. "Exactly."
She turned, addressing the room. "You have those fists that make use of your light magic. You think you're strong? You think you can take Elrond?"
She laughed. It was not a happy sound.
"Don't you know he was also our Master's student? Maren Walberd teleported to teach the Elves the same things he taught us. He would appear in our training grounds, teach us for hours, then vanish and appear in the Elven Kingdom, teach them, then return. Elrond knows everything we know. He is as strong as you, Kizar. Perhaps stronger."
Kizar sat down, his golden hair falling over his face. Embarrassment. Shame.
Sasha walked away, her red cloak flowing behind her.
"We have only one choice," she announced. "We investigate everything. Every kingdom. Every shadow. Every rumor."
She stopped before the twelve Kings.
"I have seen his face. I have seen his eyes. He is not a monster. Not yet. But he is becoming one. And monsters must be found before they learn to like the taste."
Roric stepped forward. "If you want my help, you follow my rules. My knights. My strategy. My—"
"No."
Roric stopped. "What?"
Sasha turned. Her eyes blazed. "If you want MY help, you follow MY rules. I have faced him. I have felt his power. You were unconscious, Roric. You didn't see what I saw."
Roric's aura flared. Black gravity cracked the floor. "You think you can command me? In my own kingdom? After I—"
"Roric."
The voice was soft. Old. Tired.
King Cedric Blackwood stood, his hand raised. He looked at his son with eyes that had seen too much.
"Let her lead."
Roric stared at his father. "You would side with her? Against your own blood?"
"I would side with wisdom," Cedric said. "Against pride. You are strong, my son. But she is right. She has seen him. Felt him. You have not."
Roric's fists trembled. His black eyes flicked between his father and Sasha. The pressure in the room grew unbearable.
Then—he exhaled.
"Fine," Roric whispered. "But it will take too much time. Searching every kingdom. Investigating every shadow. While we crawl, he flies."
Sasha smiled. It was cold. Determined.
"I don't care," she said. "Even if it takes years. Even if it takes my lifetime. I don't care."
She raised her hand. Her aura exploded outward, red as blood, hot as the sun.
"I, Sasha Wamen, Strongest of the Living, order all knights—from C-Rank to SSS+—to search for this creature. Turn every stone. Question every witness. Follow every rumor."
Her voice dropped to a whisper that somehow reached every corner of the room.
"And I order you... not to die."
Silence.
Then, slowly, the warriors began to kneel. First the S-Ranks. Then the SS-Ranks. Then Farlos, his red eyes wide with awe. Then Kizar, his golden head bowed.
Even Roric, after a moment, inclined his head.
Sasha stood alone in the center of the map, surrounded by kneeling warriors and trembling Kings.
She looked at the projection of Markil's face. The white hair. The purple eyes. The tears she had seen in them.
I will find you, she thought. Not to kill you. Not yet. To understand. To see if you're a monster... or just a boy who broke the world and doesn't know how to fix it.
"Now this is all for today," she commanded.
And the hunt began.
(Chapter 38 Finished)